Clash of Legends
by CoLProject
Summary: What happens when six nations accumulate one hundred of their greatest warriors and pit them against each other in a massive tournament? Well, you get the greatest combat orientated tale that you could ever hope for. The fights cometh, so don't miss out! (A collaboration between BTolson23 and Yajuu-Kikuishi.)
1. The Six Benefactors

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**\- Chapter One -**

**\- The Six Benefactors -**

**\- Unknown Location –**

It was time for the centennial Clash of Legends tournament. It had been a tradition for as long as Heydal Harkan could remember, which was a very long time. Ever since Darkstalker J'Kqan was victorious on Heydal's debut tournament, he had been anticipating each event's crop of warriors. In particular, this year's contestants such as Empire's Norell Dragonslayer, the Alliance's Oljaneik, and Spectre's Ramadent the Haunted. Although picking such examples proved near impossible.

As Heydal drank the strange looking liquid in his glass, he thought of the quality of battles he was about to witness. As with previous competitions, the one hundred best warriors scattered across the six lands had been brought together to participate in Clash of Legends. With that thought in mind he decided that further indulgence in this drink could lead to death, or worse. He cast his glance to the bar before him, scanning the innumerable drinks for something a little less potent.

The bar had been specially constructed using the moderately expensive wood from the Pilgrim's Tree. Its white surface shone in the light of the room echoing its parent tree's sheen. The vast array of bottles rested on the bronzebark shelving; securely packed end-to-end on each level. He tried to choose between Marinal Shark named for its bite, or the Honeysap extracted from the famous Amber Grove; however, he settled on the safer choice of Empire Red which he was always partial to. Better safe than sorry.

With drink in hand, he turned his attention to the set of tables that ran the length of the wall opposite the door, awaiting the first of the benefactors to arrive. Heydal looked at the array of roasted tentacles, grey cheeses, glistening eyeballs, charred meats, glowing leaves, smoking jellies, and everything in between. He decided it'd be best to leave such delicacies to his guests.

Putting the food out of his mind, he perched on the edge of a plush armchair on the outside of a number of similarly fashioned seating; not limited to the single variation he had selected. Placing his drink on one of the small tables provided, he looked up to the central monitor, glancing left and right at the flanking screens; all devoid of anything to show. Heydal pulled his pocket watch free, sighing when he saw the time. He hoped for once his patrons wouldn't all arrive late as they were sometimes wont to do.

The doors were flung open and Heydal quickly hid his surprise as he jerked to his feet. A feminine figure strode into the room and Heydal made haste to greet her. He extended his hand for an introduction but the woman ignored him as she continued past him. Heydal turned, confused, and saw the woman quickly circle the room, trailing her hands across every surface. She briefly paused at the food laden table and Heydal could have sworn he heard her sniffing tentatively.

"Serpent, may I offer you a beverage of your choice?" Heydal asked as he approached her back.

Serpent turned quickly without a word. The mask she wore to hide her face seemed to be made of porcelain. The sculpted lips, beneath the equally sculpted nose, had been painted a dark green, reminiscent of her namesake. Resting across the crown of the mask were two snakes that met at its centre to intertwine together. Heydal was bemused to see the mask was smoothed over the area where eyeholes would normally be.

Taking her silence as a no, he said "May I offer you a seat instead?"

Once more silent, she walked towards a single seat, removing her sleeveless ankle-length coat as she went. A tight turtleneck, of finely woven wool, showed underneath; as well as black trousers fastened at the waist by a leather belt with various pouches attached. Her slightly heeled boots made no noise against the lush carpet as her gloved hands lifted the cushion of the chair she had chosen. Utilizing her naked fingers the gloves allowed, she ran them across the uncovered seat of the chair.

Heydal figured the Serpent was likely expecting a trap as she replaced the cushion and took a seat, her coat now folded along the back of the chair.

"Is everything progressing smoothly?" Serpent asked frankly.

Heydal stepped forward, surprised she had actually spoken, to answer. "As can be expected. The others should be here shortly."

With the exchange complete, Serpent lapsed back into silence and settled her would-be gaze on the monitors before her. Heydal stood awkwardly, wondering what to do, when he was saved by the doors opening a second time.

A boisterous laugh filled the room, proceeding the entrance of who Heydal could only presume to be Kraken. Proving him right, the large man ducked into the room with a smaller figure in tow. As before, Kraken's light grey pinstriped suit stood out in stark contrast to his dark blue skin and four yellow eyes, two either side of his face. A single item differed from his usual attire; a tattered human's captain's coat with three long gashes down its back. His chest-length straight beard swung over the single pearl affixed around his neck with a hemp rope, as his long legs carried him to Heydal. Heydal braced himself as Kraken swung a large hand down and slapped him on the back, causing Heydal to stumble forward.

"Heydal!" Kraken bellowed. "It's been too long, my friend."

"I take it you two are acquainted?" The second man said impatiently. Heydal took his red skin to indicate he had taken the name of the Dragon.

Kraken grinned with a heavy arm wrapped around Heydal's shoulders. "Acquainted? Bwahaha, we've known each other for decades!"

"You must be Dragon." Heydal said pulling himself free from Kraken's grasp and extended his hand.

With no hesitation, Dragon reached forward and clasped Heydal's hand firmly. The well-muscled man stood nearly a head above Heydal, giving the smaller man a good view of the scattering of scars across his bare chest and the pair of iron cuffs fastened around his wrists. The open vest Dragon wore seemed to be patched together with multiple leathers of varying colours.

"That's an… interesting vest, Dragon." Heydal noted.

Dragon smiled, showing his pointed teeth and bringing attention to his braided goatee and straight sideburns which fed into his swept back black hair.

Both men wore masks in a token attempt to hide their identities, but unlike Serpent's they only covered the upper half of their faces. Dragon's was simple, forged of iron in the shape of a dragon's maw; while Kraken's was more grandiose with eight tentacles reaching to the back of his head. Dragon's mask seemed to be held to his face by small polished copper chains pierced into the flesh of his ears; while Kraken's bore the ancestral history of his people embossed into the main body of his mask.

"Ah yes, he was telling me about that. He claims it's made of the skins of his foes." Kraken said.

"Only the ones who have tested me." Dragon intervened, his grin gone.

Heydal paused to contemplate such a thing before inviting them further into the room, leading them towards the chairs.

"Aha, new blood!" Kraken said as he noticed the small woman sat in the chair. "Going by your mask, I take it you are Serpent. I remember your predecessor, a great gal, but you're better looking. I'm Kraken!" He thrust out his hand energetically for a handshake. He held it there for a few seconds before Dragon spoke up.

"If you weren't such a buffoon, you'd realise she is blind."

Kraken paused for another second before dropping his hand to his side. "Well… this spoil-sport is Dragon, another new one!"

"At least not all of you are clowns." Dragon said towards Serpent.

"Yes, Dragon, I've heard Whispers of your proficiency in battle."

"Only whispers? I've heard all kinds scream my name."

Kraken's laugh interrupted them. "Ok, no-one likes a show off Dragon. Right. Who wants drinks!?"

Without waiting for an answer from either benefactor, Kraken stepped to the bar, leaning forward to look at the drink selection. Immediately he grabbed a bottle of Firemead and gestured it towards Dragon. "A spicy one for you without a doubt. Now, for the little lady…"

"I would prefer not-" Serpent started.

"Oh, that one!" Kraken interrupted and selected a bottle of Phantom Grey. Without a glance at the expertly stacked glasses, he took a bottle in each hand and made his way back to the pair. He stood between them and offered their respective bottles.

Dragon dubiously took the dense bottle and peered at its label, noticing the bubbling content within. "As expected of a brute, you have failed to supply a glass."

Kraken glanced at Dragon with a smaller grin than usual. "Hah, everyone knows the best way to drink is from the bottle." Noticing that Serpent had not yet taken her bottle, he wiggled it to and fro. "Just reach up in front of your face, love." Serpent paused before taking the bottle from Kraken and flinging it to the side. It spun through the air before hitting the wall with a thud and falling to land in a bowl of creamy green broth.

Kraken looked at the half-submerged bottle before bursting out with a hearty laugh. "I see you're not thirsty then. But me, on the other hand, I'm usually up for experimenting but I'll think this time I'll stick with a Corral Edge." To reinforce his words, Kraken made his way back to the bar and quickly picked out the stout bottle, taking a deep swig immediately.

For the third time, the door swung inwards and Heydal rushed to greet the two new arrivals. A man and woman entered the room, arm in arm; the Phoenix and Raven had arrived.

Phoenix slipped free of Raven and offered his gloved hand to Heydal. Heydal accepted with relief and took the hand in his. After a solid shake, Phoenix leant towards Heydal. "What's the time, sir?"

Heydal used his free hand to pull his pocket watch out. "Ah, exactly on time?"

"As always." Phoenix replied and dropped his hand to his side. A similar height to Heydal himself, Phoenix wore a ceremonial uniform. Atop his high collared blue jacket, a steel cuirass pressed the cloth tight. Etched into the metal was a rising phoenix visible behind a crimson sash adorned with copious amounts of medals, ribbons, and pins. His grey breeches had been tucked into highly polished boots that shone in the light of the chandelier above them.

The mask he wore was unlike the others, it seemed more like a helmet than a mask. It curved from the top of his head to his nose in a single plate. A arrow shaped slit revealed his pale blue eyes while his coal coloured hair hung straight down his back. Ornately shaped phoenix wings fed from hairline to jaw, extending backwards and out. "This charming woman is Lady Raven." He said gesturing behind him.

Raven giggled and stepped forward to kiss Heydal on each cheek. "I've heard so much about you, Heydal, dear." Tipping the scales over one hundred, Raven wore her years well. "I remember watching you at the last games."

"I prefer the word tournament." Heydal said.

"Semantics, dear, semantics." She said as she proceeded further into the room. The shear dress of raven feathers she wore flaunted her figure surprisingly well. A pair of long black gloves ran the length of her arms while black high heels, open fronted to show a greyish pallor, raised her a few inches. The bright lights twinkled off the jewelled necklace she wore, as well as the various gemmed rings on her fingers. Her grey hair, stacked gracefully on her head, only made her strange iris-less eyes stand out.

Although the smallest of the group, her mask was the grandest. It simply covered the area around her eyes and nose and had been fashioned to the likeness of a Raven's wings in flight with a beak protruding outwards. Dark amethyst gems flooded the mask enough to hide the metal they were mounted on.

Kraken appeared behind Heydal with a pair of bottles in hand. "Hi, I'm Kraken. Nice to see more new faces." He lifted one bottle slightly higher and nodded at Raven. "A nice Moonlight Symphony for m'lady Raven…" Then he raised the second bottle. "…and an Empire Red for Phoenix."

Phoenix took both bottles in hand, made his way to the stacked glasses, retrieved two, poured a glass of each bottle, placed the bottles back on the shelf, and presented the Moonlight Symphony glass to Raven. Raven took the offered glass from his hand and took a tentative sip of the purple liquid.

"Exquisite, Phoenix, thank you."

"I see we have a gentleman in our midst." Kraken chuckled.

"Everyone is a gentleman compared to you, Kraken." Dragon interceded as he walked forward, his bottle now only a glass.

Phoenix extended his hand for a second time and Dragon returned the favour. As the shake continued, Phoenix's mouth curled into a small grin while Dragon's face remained stoic. A couple of seconds passed before Phoenix broke the silence.

"You have a firm grip, Sir Dragon."

"As do you, Phoenix." Dragon replied as the two of them released their grips at the same time. Kraken couldn't help but let out a laugh.

While the exchange took place, Raven made her way to the seated Serpent and took a place to her side. Resting her hand on the blind woman's shoulder, Raven took note of the tensing muscles. "Try to relax dear, this is meant to be a party."

"Do you expect a dance, Raven?" Serpent said before reaching up and removing the hand from her shoulder.

"Nothing of the sort, dear. No drink for you?"

Serpent turned her head to Raven. "Poison is not normally my beverage of choice."

Without a reply, Raven looked down at her own glass before looking back at Serpent and giggling. "A bit paranoid, dear?"

"Always."

Phoenix appeared and took a seat in an armchair by himself, while Dragon chose the end of a sofa. Kraken immediately sat beside Dragon, much to his disdain.

Kraken, previously slouched, suddenly sat upright. "Hey, isn't there usually a unicorn at this thing?"

Heydal took a place in front of the central monitor with his hands clasped in front of him. "He has been invited, yes." He couldn't help but glance at the door, clearly expecting it to open on cue.

Kraken slouched down again and nodded towards Phoenix. "You must have many stories to tell, Phoenix, with as many medals as you have. Perhaps one of them goes hand-in-hand with the scar on your neck you're sporting?"

Phoenix took a sip of his Empire Red before answering. "You noticed."

"A man of my stature tends to notice such things." Kraken replied with a mischievous grin.

"You do have an impressive stature, Kraken." Raven commented.

"Thank you, m'lady Raven" Kraken said after gulping another mouthful of Corral Edge. "Phoenix isn't the only one I've noticed things about; such as those talons of yours."

Raven couldn't help but tap the talons along her glass; they were fused to the ends of the thumb, index, and middle fingers of each hand.

"You may notice things Kraken, but my Whispers tell of your exploits on the surface." Serpent said from her seat, still facing forward.

Kraken's face darkened behind his grin.

"Not as clever as you thought are you, Kraken?" Dragon interjected.

"If we are rating cleverness, your loss at the fields of Attylica speaks volumes, Sir Dragon." Phoenix shot in.

"Volumes that say, oh what was it... three thousand men?" Kraken said through his smile.

Dragon purpled and placed his glass heavily on the table beside him. "I may have lost three thousand men at Attylica but I still won that battle, unlike your last."

"Yes, on the Coast of Shattered Sands, I believe. You barely made it out alive." Kraken said, siding with Dragon.

"'Barely' being the operative word, Sir Kraken." Phoenix replied placing his glass carefully on his own table. "I succeeded in saving over two hundred lives from that trap."

Heydal considered stepping in to cool the air but was beaten to it by Raven. "You're both fabulous generals, dears. You don't have to prove yourselves here."

"Oh, I don't know." Kraken said. "I've always wondered who was more respected between Empire and Draken."

"That's hardly a question, Sir Kraken. The respect I've earned is leagues above anything a Draken could hope to achieve."

"I'm not just any Draken, Phoenix, my respect is demanded by my mere presence."

"If you demand respect, Sir Dragon, it is nothing more than a false courtesy."

Dragon pounced to his feet with a snarl. "Your virtues of honour and admiration are nothing in the face of a person's fear of punishment and retribution. I have spent my whole life beating down those trying to earn my respect. That kind of respect holds little sway in the minds of men. You hide behind the metal of your armour and your legions of soldiers while you'll find me at the front of my pack leading the charge. Your trinkets you wear so proudly are nothing but that… trinkets." He jabbed at his vest with a thumb. "These are my medals, a far more potent warning to those who wish to oppose me."

"Oh please. The same argument, different people."

Breaking their stare, Dragon and Phoenix snapped their gaze to the bland new voice. Raven swung her head in surprise, while Kraken let out an amused guffaw. Serpent's only movement was to tilt her head to the side slightly before speaking herself.

"You need to pay more attention to your surroundings." She said.

The petite man took a sip of the clear liquid in his glass from the settled position in his chair. Unicorn was wearing pale green layered robes that hung from his body in waves with a white shawl rested on his shoulders, decorated with colourless crystals. Half of his long white hair, that bunched at the crease of his waist, covered the tree-forged crown positioned around his head. An angular mask hung from the front of the crown by hinges, covering his jade eyes and pointed nose. The small horn, affixed to the centre of his crown, protruded outwards. The left side of his hair was swept back and secured behind his pointed left ear.

"Unicorn, I thought you'd never arrive!" Kraken laughed, pointedly ignoring his failure to notice the Alliance benefactor.

"Impressive stealth skills, Sir Unicorn." Phoenix commended.

"You sneak like a rat, scurrying for food." Dragon commented before returning to his seat.

"Oh don't be so cranky, it's not Unicorn's fault you lost the argument." Kraken jabbed, patting Dragon on the shoulder.

"It never is, yet people blame me anyway." Unicorn sighed from behind the curtain of hair that hid his face. He reached up with his gloved hand and pushed the right side behind his ear.

Dragon opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted as Heydal spoke up first. "Now that we've all arrived, it is time to introduce you to the Clash of Legends. Some of you are new…" he nodded towards Phoenix, Raven, Serpent, and Dragon. "… and some of you are returning." This time he nodded to Kraken and Unicorn. "As you know, it is run once every one hundred years-"

"This is the seventh time I've been here and yet you look exactly the same as always, Heydal Harkan." Unicorn said.

"I make sure to take care of myself." Heydal replied with a smirk before continuing.

"Draken. Empire. Shadow. Spectre. Alliance. Abyss. We have scoured these lands for your one hundred greatest beings. Be this man or monster. Some have been chosen for their achievements, some have been chosen for their ferocity, some for their wits, some for their prowess. All of them have been carefully selected by our most accomplished recruiters.

What is the point of this tournament, you ask? Is it a game? Is it war? Or is it simple violence? No, my friends, this is preparation. The central screen behind me will show a consistent view of the entire battle, while the two screens on either side will focus on each contestant. One." He signalled the screen on his right. "Two." He indicated the screen on his left.

"Each fight could take place in a location taken from a pool of twenty-six arenas. Each arena is a sample taken from an unique location from all over the world; from the Cleansing Grounds to the Towers of Myth. Some of them you may be familiar with, some of them are mysteries even to you. When the competitors have been selected, and the arena chosen, they will be placed in an infinite representation of these locations.

When the bout begins, the rules are thus. Most importantly, surrendering is not an option; we won't have cowards here. They can use the arena to their advantage, including any resources on location. This is a duel to prove ones greatness, not the wilds of a battlefield. To win, they can either render their opponent incapable of continuing, or, if called for, kill them outright. A shaft of compacted light envelopes the victor and transports them to a chamber that speeds up the natural healing process. However, some injuries will be too severe to heal completely and will be carried over to the next fight.

The first rotation of duels will be randomly selected to lead into the first round. This will leave sixty-four combatants ready to begin the competition proper. So shall we get started? I now leave you to your talks to ready yourselves for the tournament to begin. Feel free to partake in any refreshments you wish."

With his speech completed, Heydal Harkan bowed deeply to his audience of six and left the room, closing the doors behind him.

"Well, that was dramatic. At least now Abyss will demonstrate their skills to the surface." Kraken said before chuckling excitedly.

"This will show you that Draken aren't push overs." Said Dragon with the sound of glee in his voice.

"The Empire will prove once and for all their prowess." Phoenix retorted with steeped fingers.

"The forces of Spectre shall show that their experiments are more advanced than simple evolution." Raven giggled into her glass.

"The Alliance was successful last time, I'm sure we're in for a repeat performance." Unicorn proclaimed while squirming deeper into his chair.

"You won't even see the Shadow coming. As always." Serpent uttered, resting her arms along the armrests of the chair.

All three screens flickered to life, the outer screens showing the first two fighters, the central screen showing a close up of Heydal Harkan's face.

"This is not for the faint of heart. Welcome, viewers, to the Clash of Legends!"


	2. The Great Master vs The Phantom

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**\- Chapter Two -**

**\- The Great Master vs The Phantom -**

**\- Huntswood -**

As she had been told, Merana Aldebrane found herself in a strange location where a second before she had been seated at her throne in Ferabolt. The man she had been speaking to had refused to bow to her station, much to Merana's disdain, but the words he spoke had interested her enough that she decided to listen before having him killed. He explained to her of the strange tournament being held across the lands where the mightiest warriors fought against each other to prove their worth. She had done a similar thing while rising to her current position and coveted repeating the process with stronger fighters.

Merana's station was not the only thing that bolstered her presence; she was a thickset woman who stood a head taller than most men. Her fiery orange hair hung in waves to her back while her dark blue eyes stood out in contrast to her pale golden skin. When she had achieved the status of Great Master, Merana had gained a floating triangular halo above her head and the eight Iron Rods of Dominance floated mystically behind her back. She wore a brown dress rimmed with gold, with wide sleeves that tightened at the wrists and a white sash fastened around her waist. Over the dress she wore a blue tabard that hung to her shins and sported a two-layered, high and wide collar. The tabard had a golden rim as well as circular golden designs sewn into it. Resting on her shoulders and upper torso was thin leather armour with a golden triangle resting at her neck. The thick leather boots she wore on her feet provided practical footwear for her to move quickly on. Matching fingerless gloves covered her hands and a number of golden rings decorated her fingers.

Merana scanned the ugly trees of the forest around her until she spotted what she was looking for; her opponent. The man that had talked to her had also explained that she would only have one opponent in each fight and all she had to do to win was incapacitate or kill.

Thara Cavalletto was not as calm as the other woman, although you would not know it by looking at her, and looked around carefully having discovered herself in a new place so suddenly. The last thing she remembered was dismissing some soldier that had approached her on the street and disappearing into the shadows. Except that she hadn't reached the destination she had been expecting, instead appearing in a forest she did not recognise.

She was a small woman by nature, barely reaching most men's shoulders, and her waist length blonde hair was pulled back in a wild ponytail. Her striking violet eyes were hidden behind a pair of gold-lensed leather goggles. Thara wore a tight purple top, which stretched across her breasts, with a high neck covered by a white cravat and a red leather corset fastened with golden-buckled straps. Matching purple trousers, although not as tight, covered her legs and she wore knee-length leather boots with small golden discs on the front. A leather belt was cinched tight around her waist with two more hung loosely at alternating angles holding two pouches to the sides of her thighs. Her arms were covered from shoulder to fingertips with iron coloured armour, plated and jointed to allow freedom of movement. Attached to her left forearm by golden bands was a large drill piece, bouncing back and forth as if readying to engage at any moment. Similarly on her right forearm, this too attached by golden bands, were two serrated blades eight inches in length and ending in a deadly point. A small white mouse currently sat on her shoulder and she held a long stemmed pipe in her teeth.

Despite not recalling anyone telling her, Thara could remember a set of instructions and rules that apparently seemed to be relevant to her current situation. She had spotted her so called opponent immediately but had ignored her for the time being as the woman had not moved; until now.

"My first opponent is a little girl?" Merana said as she charged magical power within herself. "I was told that I would be fighting great warriors, not children."

Thara remained silent and slowly tracked sideways, stepping outwards to avoid the trees, keeping her eyes locked on the strangely dressed woman.

"Not the talkative type? It's best you learn your place immediately, it will make things go much easier for you." Merana sneered as a gust of wind passed over her. "I wouldn't want to kill you." The wind suddenly changed direction and started rotating around her until she started rising off the ground and came to a hover a couple of feet clear of the grass and roots of the forest.

Thara watched this display through her goggles, keeping her face still of emotion. She had seen magic before, obviously, but nothing quite so blatant. The assassin was used to the more subtle side of such things and so didn't know exactly what to expect. She exhaled smoke from her mouth and then pulled the pipe free to glance inside the chamber. Luckily for her, she had restocked mere moments before her abduction; she would have enough to give her the adequate cover when needed. Replacing the pipe and looking back towards Merana, Thara grinned and came to a sudden stop behind a thick tree trunk, hiding her from view.

"You can't hide from me so easily." Merana said as she raised her hand and it grew orange with heat before a ball of flame appeared in it. She leisurely flicked her hand towards the tree Thara was behind and the flame shot off like a cannonball. It sheered through branches, leaving only a blackened trail, until it pierced through the tree where Merana guessed Thara's head to be.

Thara hadn't stayed still though and was already close enough to attack by the time Merana noticed her. The assassin used her smaller stature to roll into range and aimed a kick to Merana's ribs. The sorceress was quick on the mark though and Thara's leather sole had barely brushed her when she swept away on the air.

The quick exchange confirmed two things for Thara; one, her opponent needed distance to be most effective. Two, Thara had to get in close to win. With that in mind, she twitched her left hand and the drill attached to her forearm started rotating slowly, before speeding up to become a blur. Merana started to say something but Thara didn't listen as she drove the drill into the ground and drew a wide line in front of her. It wasn't the trench she was interested in; instead she focused on the rocks, dirt, and tree root her drill had sent into the air.

Thara stopped the drill suddenly and swept it forward in a wide arc, knocking the debris in wild trajectories towards Merana. The sorceress smiled and waved her hand in front of her, sending a wave of water to wash everything away. As planned, Thara used this to get in close quickly and swiped her twin claws at Merana's stomach. Once again, Merana quickly floated backwards on her air but this time she retaliated with a trio of fireballs fired in quick succession.

They moved quickly but Thara dodged all three, although the third came dangerously close to burning her neck. This time, instead of moving forward to attack, Thara dodged backwards herself and disappeared behind another tree.

"Is this the best you've got, missing and hiding? If so, I'm extremely disappointed." Merana said as she raised her hands and generated a small black cloud that flickered with light in each. "I'll just have to hope my next opponent is tougher." The two clouds grew bright with their light and a bolt of lightning jumped out of each one. They tore through the trees in front of Merana like paper; shattering the wood and catching them alight as they went. However, Thara was nowhere in sight. Merana frowned and sent a quick gust of wind down the destroyed path to extinguish the trees she had ignited. "Alright, I'll admit that's a neat trick."

Using her magic meant her pipe would be less useful later but Thara thought that if it saved her life, it wasn't wasted at least. She stepped out from behind the tree she had appeared behind and looked through the moderate foliage at her target. Thara would need cover to prevent herself from being frazzled by the lightning, and she had just the thing. She clambered up the tree and perched in a crooked branch, the leaves hiding her from clear view. Then with a heavy puff into her pipe, she started generating smoke that begun to surround her.

Merana looked around cautiously when there was no counterattack until she decided the girl wasn't coming. Instead of dousing her clouds, she sent them up into the air instead, where they joined together to create a bigger cloud that crackled with lightning. "Now, I'd rather not burn down the entire forest, I suspect the smoke would be better for you than for me." Merana said loudly but in no direction in particular. "But I can't leave you to run around unwatched."

She held out both her hands again but this time two balls of water appeared, dripping slightly into her upturned hands. Merana flicked a finger on each hand and the spheres started spinning on the spot until they looked like miniature cyclones contained in bubbles. They didn't stay in place for long as they started circling Merana in opposite directions, speeding up and growing longer with each second until two rings surrounded her. Then with the clenching of her hands, Merana changed the shape of the rings to flat chakrams and angled them in opposite directions; making her the nuclei of her watery atom.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are." Merana sung before pushing her arms out quickly.

The water chakrams expanded quickly and sheared through the trees like saws. At the angle Merana had set them, they cut both high and low for a fair distance before dissipating. Nothing happened for a second and then trees started to collapse at the point they had been cut. Merana used the wind at her feet to spin quickly until she caught sight of a figure falling not far from her. "Got you." She said as another cloud appeared in her hand and crackled with lightning before a bolt struck off quickly. Merana realised at this point that the figure she was aiming at seemed to be shrouded in something.

Thara was surprised to find herself falling as the tree below her collapsed but she twisted in the air and landed on all fours and looked up to see the witch forming another cloud to fire lightning at her. The smoke she had exhaled from her pipe was now thick and dense and swirled around her closely in random patterns. As soon as she saw the cloud start to form, Thara removed the pipe from her mouth and blew out air sharply. The smoke around her exploded outwards and reared up like a tidal wave to cover the area in all directions. Thara immediately changed her position and felt her hair stand on end as a lightning bolt passed through her previous position. Now in the cover of her smoke, she didn't need to use her ability as she raced through the trees in a wide curve, aiming for her strike.

"Oh." Merana exclaimed as her attack was shrouded by a mass of smoke that was quickly travelling towards her. She sent a torrent of air into it but it seemed to have no effect. She created two short cyclones either side of her and sent them forward, where they ripped leaves and small branches off the trees, but they didn't do anything to the smoke. She braced as the smoke passed over her but nothing harmed her, instead she realised the true purpose of the smoke. "A smoke screen? Another useless trick for someone who fights like you do."

She spun around quickly, hoping to gauge some kind of clue to where the strike would come from, but came up with nothing. The smoke was continuously swirling but Merana thought she saw movement behind her and sent another tongue of lightning in the new direction. Nearly at the same moment as she fired, a sharp pain raked along her back and she was so shocked she dropped to the floor with a stumble. With a tentative hand, she felt at the point of the pain and found her dress ripped and blood on her fingers.

"Damn it!" She exclaimed as she hovered off the floor again and spun around to try and catch sight of Thara. Another movement caught her eye and this time she was sure as she sent off her cloud into the air and attacked with a wave of flame that cascaded forward through the trees, burning them to cinders. Once again, a sharp pain ran along her back, higher than the last time, but she managed to stay afloat; gritting her teeth against the pain. With the pattern figured out, Merana attacked without waiting for an apparent movement.

The wall of wind rolled forward but Merana had already spun around and sent a blade of water flying forwards to where she was sure Thara was currently attacking from.

Thara was no kind of idiot. An established pattern was easy to figure out, even for someone like Merana. However, Thara figured that she'd fall for a fake out and so established the fake pattern, ready to change it up when Merana predicted the apparent next move. This meant as Merana attacked with her water blade, Thara was already at her side and drove her twin blades deep into Merana's thigh. The witch screamed but Thara didn't hesitate as she aimed her spinning drill bit at the screams origin.

Merana acted quickly, despite her bulky size, and managed to push the drill bit away from removing her head. It did tear up her hand but she ignored the pain as she generated a group of tiny flame balls and sent them down to Thara's face.

Thara quickly pulled her blades free and rolled behind the witch as she fired her flames, the attack singeing her back as she moved, she aimed a swipe at the back of Merana's knees but she dodged it with a quick air shuffle forward. Thara didn't let up and dived forward to attack, realising a second too late that a small black cloud was hovering in front of her. She kicked the ground to move to the side but the lightning bolt completely engulfed her left arm and Thara couldn't help but scream as she felt the searing pain run through her; the lightning destroying her drill in the process.

The scream was satisfyingly loud and Merana smiled as she sent her cloud into the air and created a small blade of water and aimed at where she estimated Thara's throat to be. The blade passed over the girl's head, slicing some hairs free, and Merana cursed silently as Thara dodged further out and disappeared into the mist again.

"You're like a wounded cat now, little one. I'll catch you eventually." Merana crooned as she let herself touch the ground and took a slow step forward. "Come now, don't be shy…you're about to finally learn your place beneath me."

Thara leant heavily against the thick tree and cradled her injured arm in front of her. Small spasms occasionally rocked it but the fact Thara could still feel the near-excruciating pain told her it would heal eventually. However, she would need to finish the fight soon or the pain would distract her and probably end up getting her killed. She made a quiet whistle out of the side of the pipe in her mouth and the white mouse that had taken refuge in her thigh pouch scampered up to her shoulder again.

"I just need you to distract her for a second, alright?" She whispered, her voice pleasant to the ear. The mouse nodded and clambered down her to the floor before racing off into the smoke. Thara untied her cravat and managed to fashion it into a makeshift sling to hold her injured arm beneath her breasts as securely as possible. It still hurt, but not as much as moving it normally. She used her ability to switch positions, running her to the edge of empty, and dropped to a crouch with Merana in view a couple of feet away; the smoke nothing but a thin haze to the assassin's goggles.

Merana stepped through the fog carefully, managing to avoid tripping over the roots at her feet, and flexed her hands slowly; ready to cast immediately. "I know you're…" she stopped as something landed on her shoulder with a thud. Her head turned sharply and she saw a plump white mouse perched there with its head tilted to the side. "What the…?" She managed before something pierced through her chest and pinned her to the tree behind her. She choked as blood bubbled from her lips.

Thara pushed her twin blades deeper until her fist was touching the breasts they were pierced between. The mouse jumped from Merana to Thara and Thara let out a little whistle of thanks as it returned to her pouch.

"Killed… by a little girl." Merana said, wiping the blood away from her mouth. The eight iron rods that had been floating behind her now scattered to the floor and her halo disintegrated. "How… embarrassing."

Thara didn't say anything and twisted her arm before pulling it free and dropping Merana to her knees in front of her. With a sharp inhale of her pipe, the smoke that surrounded them was sucked back into it to reveal the destruction around them; burnt, broken, shredded trees that looked naked in the light of the forest.

"But I'm not done." Merana managed before looking up. Thara followed her gaze and saw a large black cloud brimming with lightning ready to fire. "A last trap."

The cloud suddenly erupted and numerous snaking lightning bolts dropped towards the ground. Thara reacted instantly and flicked one of the iron rods on the floor to the top of her foot and into the air. Then with a swift kick from her other foot, she sent it flying directly upwards where it clashed with the one lightning bolt close enough to do any harm. The lightning bunched at the metal rod and gave Thara enough time to jump to the side and avoid it as the earth exploded around her.

When the dust had settled, Thara stood up from her crouch and looked across to where Merana was now leant against a collapsed tree. Clumps of dirt covered her and had settled into the crooks of her now-dim face; the sad look on her face said it all.

"I didn't plan to fight you. But you attacked me first." Thara said quietly in her melodious voice. It wasn't an apology, just all the justification Thara needed to kill someone.

Turning her back on the body, Thara wondered what to do next. She started towards one of the few trees left standing, intending to scale it to get a look at the surroundings, but suddenly a beam of light shot down from the sky to surround her. Surprisingly, her goggles did nothing to suppress the beams brightness as Thara looked in all directions. Nothing happened for a second but then the light was gone; and so was she.


	3. The Last Cyclops vs The Dryad

**.**

**\- Chapter Three -**

**\- The Last Cyclops vs The Dryad -**

**\- Towers of Myth -**

Hakar Dur had not seen this coming. Only hours before, he had been happily raiding the dungeon of Gravekeeper Dorian, rifling through crypts and chests in search of treasure. He had remembered the sound of a man clearing his throat and had turned. Now, he stood at the topmost floor of one of the uncountable towers that thrust upwards in every direction, as far as his eye could see.

Hakar was a big man, standing almost ten foot tall. He was thick set with arms of sinewy muscle and had a pot belly covered in scars from battles well-fought. His shaggy legs and hooves had been plated with armour, with a red sash tied firmly around his waist. Bangles of gold lined each arm, twinkling in the daylight. Hakar's right arm had a thick iron pauldron and forearm guard and was grasping a sharp spear, shimmering with lightning. A net weighted down with iron spiked balls hung from Hakar's left hand, trailing across the coal black stones beneath his hooves.

Taking a tentative step forward, Hakar found his mouth, missing numerous teeth, turning into an expectant smile. He was not a pretty cyclops by any means. His rugged face was filled with a shaggy beard on his jaw while a wisp of a moustache showed above his upper lip. His single eye rested above a stub nose and his mono-brow extended across his forehead. Hakar had placed a pot-helm with an eagle's design on his head, a trophy from a vault from years ago. He stared at the intimidating beauty before him. This was going to be a challenge.

Hakar had heard tales of this woman. The Heartree Keeper, Enyfora. Who knew if the ferocious stories were true, but Hakar kept his guard up all the same, despite Enyfora's innocent appearance. Her translucent, watery green skin seemed to pulse every five seconds or so, casting a light green glow across the stone before her. She wore no clothes, but instead armour that seemed to be made out of some kind of natural wood which wrapped around her arms and legs, but kept little to the imagination around the hips and torso, tendrils of wood barely covering her. The wood gathered from her shoulders and up her neck, splitting up either side of Enyfora's face before connecting back into a grand crown, with a single green gem placed straight in the middle. A great river of green leafy hair fell from the top of the crown, trailing down to below her hips.

Enyfora was a beauty, even for being fifty foot tall.

She was as tall as a giant of legend, casting a shadow over Hakar. He was used to being the taller person in battle, but today was not so. Today he had a fight on his hands.

"I am truly sorry," Enyfora whispered in a voice as sweet as honey. It had a faint musical tone to it as well, which brought to mind bird calls in the morning.

Hakar didn't reply, just stepped forward again. At this step, Enyfora's body creaked like a great oak as she widened her stance, looking closely at Hakar. He paused, contemplating the best way to beat this foe. His net was generally a good ally in battle, but when the opponent was bigger than the net…

Hakar opted for surprise.

He darted forward, spear in right hand, net in left. Enyfora hadn't expected a man of his size to move as such, and barely reacted as he stopped between her legs. Hakar gave a shout, pulling back his right hand and slamming the spear into the crook of her knee, an arm's length above eye level. The electricity crackled and flashed, but did nothing more than that.

Hakar grimaced to himself, feeling foolish. Of course wood didn't conduct electricity.

Enyfora stepped backwards, the spear still firmly in the crook of her knee, and lifted her hand high above her. Hakar did not need visions to see this coming. He scrambled back, leaving his spear behind, and barely made it to the edge of the tower as the hand swung, a great torrent of wind causing his brown beard and hair to flap into his face.

Hakar straightened, glancing down the edge of the tower. Far, far below, it seemed foggy. Whatever was down there would not greet him nicely if he happened to fall. His attention was drawn back to Enyfora at the sound and the feeling of her steps, which shook the tower underneath them. She brought her hand up once more and swung it in a straight arch. Hakar was ready this time, diving to the floor, his free hand holding his helmet down. The hand flew over him, buffeting him with the disrupted air. As soon as the hand passed over him, Hakar sprinted for her leg and leapt with as much power as his legs had in them to grab the top of the bark of her thighs.

Hakar reached up and grabbed a circle of bark on her waist to pull himself up further on her body.

_Enyfora's hand swept down to swat her waist as one would a fly._

Hakar let go, allowing himself to land on the stone as her hand slapped her waist. He wasted no time, grabbing his spear from her knee with a flicker of electricity. With his weapon in hand, Hakar made the split decision to run.

A staircase descended in the corner of the tower and Hakar took it four steps at a time. They had been crafted for humans, not a cyclops. As he reached the first of many floors, Hakar paused, taking a brief look around for anything that could help. There was nothing but smooth wooden tables and piles upon piles of papers.

A sudden bang caused Hakar's neck to snap upwards as shards of stone fell down on his head, bouncing against his helm.

"Oh dear…" Hakar muttered, sprinting for the next staircase.

Enyfora's fist smashed through the roof, dropping her one layer. The cobbled stone lay strewn about her feet, yet there was no sign of the little-big man. She reached down the next staircase with a slender hand, managing to fit her hand up to her elbow. Enyfora grabbed at the air with no luck. She pulled her arm back, taking half of the staircase with her. The giant woman raised her fist a second time and slammed it down. This time the floor broke on the first strike and she fell briefly to the next level. Casting a quick glance she spotted the glint of metal as the cyclops ran to a balcony, skidding to a halt when he realised it was a dead end.

As Enyfora ducked down, her hair scraped against the walls of the tower. She reached for the little-big man but heard him mutter, "in the name of the feathered god…" Her fingers closed on open air as Hakar Dur leapt from the balcony.

Hakar Dur cursed as he fell through the air. He landed hard on his side on the opposite balcony, smashing through two desks before coming to a stop, papers covering him. He sat up, groaning at the pulsing pain in his back. Did the giantess know he had jumped? Had he successfully evaded Enyfora?

Hakar was answered by the wall smashing forward, the whole side of the room falling forward. He raised his right arm, a brick smashing against the armour of his forearm. Lowering his arm, Hakar came face to face with Enyfora. She was looking straight through the massive hole she had made, reaching forward and grasping either side with her hands to step to the tower. A chance!

Hakar Dur sprinted forward, hooking his net to his belt. He gripped his spear with both hands and for the second time leapt from a balcony. Hakar shouted something he wasn't quite sure of himself and planted the spear right between the breasts of Enyfora. A tune of pain came out of Enyfora's lips as lightning crackled over skin instead of wood. She reared back to the first tower, her shoulders and head crashing through the roof as she fell to her back.

The blade of his spear had pierced her skin, and faint amber blood came oozing out. He pulled the spear free and ran over her chest to stand on her face, point firmly between her eyes. Hakar Dur grinned a toothy grin.

_Tendrils of wood shot from the wood around her neck, jabbing outwards._

Hakar's eyes widened as he dived to the side, the tendrils of wood cracking upwards, almost certainly impaling him if he hadn't moved in time. The wood crept back into her neck as Enyfora pushed herself to her knees. Hakar dragged his spear through the air, slicing through the skin of her thigh. He pulled hard, allowing the cut to widen and bleed the amber blood. Enyfora growled in pain, even that sounding like a melody, and grabbed at him with a hand.

This time she caught the little-big man who had cut her and she watched him struggle in her hands. She stood straight, ignoring the jabs of his metal stick in her thumb. Swinging her arm, she flung Hakar Dur to the opposite tower. The fat man smashed through the first wall in a puff of broken stone.

Hakar Dur counted five floors before the floor decided not to capsize on him this time. He lay in the wreckage of a desk panting, fresh cuts on his body and blood staining his upper lip from his nose. He gasped in pain as he got to his hooves, looking around the wrecked room for his spear and net. Hakar picked up his spear and tried to pick up his net but it was caught under a stone. He pulled harder but it refused to move.

_An arm soared through the air, aiming for the cyclops._

As much as he hated to, Hakar left the net under the rock as he fell flat on his belly. With a great crash the pulsing green arm cut through the entire floor of the tower, wall to wall. The floors above him creaked, cracked, and fell, tipping sideways. It hit another tower, creating a large hole as the remnants of the top of the tower fell to the fog below.

Hakar stared at the sky above him, panting. The beautiful face of Enyfora loomed above him, pure green eyes blinking. Up close he could see very faint lighter green lines interwoven into her skin, providing the pulsing effect he had seen before.

Enyfora looked down at the pitiful man. Cut, bruised, and barely moving, she was reminded of a bird with its wings clipped. The Heartree Keeper scooped her hands gently under the little-big man, raising him up into the sky. It wasn't possible for the man to give up but she couldn't kill him. She was not a killer, not anymore.

Staring down at the cyclops in her palms, hooves and arms dangling in the air, she allowed power to move up in the form of leaves. They started at the sides of his belly, curving up his skin and interweaving themselves into his hair and beard, until finally the leaves completely covered the little-big man. Hakar Dur was beaten. He was unable to battle. Enyfora closed her eyes in relief before there was a sharp pain in her hand.

The pain spread across her palms, hot and frenzied. She couldn't help but drop her palms, as well as the pile of leaves that was Hakar Dur. He fell with a thud to the broken tower as Enyfora brought her palm to her face. His spear had been jammed straight through, the lightning flickering up her skin. Gritting her teeth, Enyfora pulled the metal weapon out, letting it clatter against the floor. Amber blood seeped out, dripping heavily to the stone.

Hakar scraped the leaves off his face, trying to keep the fear back. The leaves had got into his nose and his mouth and had been suffocating him before he had managed to impale her hand. It was a close thing… Hakar took a breath and scrambled to his hooves, scratched armour creaking. He grabbed his spear from where the giantess had dropped it and took up his net, now freed from the rock it had been trapped under.

Hakar knew he had to go on the offensive, especially now that Enyfora was distracted with her hand. He ran as fast as he could, hooves clacking against stone.

There was no warning to the fist that smashed into his body.

He flew backwards, rolling through two desks and piles of paper before smashing through the opposite wall. The sky was below him and the ground above, but by the luck of the feathered god his net got tangled on a shard of rock and his leg. Hakar Dur's back slammed against the outside of the broken tower as he stared up at the fog below him. Why had she suddenly gotten so violent? With one hand holding his helmet to his head, Hakar tried to grab at the net to pull himself up to no avail. The net creaked, protesting against his weight. Hakar grit his teeth and tried again.

_Crack!_

At the feeling of weightlessness, Hakar opened his mouth to scream but was silenced by slamming into a balcony belly first. The helmet on his head popped off, rolling on its rim towards the edge of the balcony. Hakar's eyes widened. "No!" He shouted, pushing himself forward on the ground to grab the helmet. His fingers grabbed open air as the helmet teetered off the side of the building. Hakar Dur watched open mouthed as the helmet spun in the air and hit the fog. Instantly it melted, turning into globlets of molten gold disappearing into the darkness.

Hakar Dur was speechless. That helmet was one of his first treasures, a reward for delving into the Black Chasm. He had found it on a skeleton that had never made it out. It had protected him from swords, maces, bows, and all manner of things. And this woman… this Heartree Keeper she had… she had…

Hakar pushed himself to his hooves and for the first time in his life he felt the visions come freely to his head. Usually they only appeared when his life was in danger, and even then they popped in and out, otherwise he would have seen that fist coming. But now…

_Enyfora looked down over the side of the building, seeking the little-big man._

The Cyclops ran under the archway into the building, dragging his net in his left hand and spear in his right. There was no hesitation as he ran up the stairs to the top of the broken tower. Enyfora's large back was facing him as she looked over the balcony.

_The giantess turned, spotting Hakar._

Hakar sprinted forward as her eyes widened.

_Her arm swung downwards._

He dodged to the left, the arm slamming against the floor, shaking the whole structure. Without waiting a second he threw the net upwards, hooking it on the top of the bark spreading up her leg. He placed the spear shaft in his mouth, pulled himself up, and scampered up her leg.

_Enyfora slid her hand down her side._

Hakar spun around to the back of her leg, using net and hand to pull himself up the plumage of leaves that was her hair.

_Enyfora's hands raked down her hair, trying to get the cyclops out._

Hakar spun around her body one more, this time face to face with her neck. The crook of her chin was undefended. Hakar hung from his net with one hand, using the other to take the spear from his mouth. He pointed it upwards, the point looking at her throat. With all the strength he could muster, Hakar thrust the point into her throat.

It slammed into a fresh covering of bark, harder than the usual bark on her body. The tip of the spear snapped with a burst of lightning. It shot down the shaft of the weapon, hitting Hakar's hand and traveling up his arm to shoot him backwards off of her chest. He hit the ground painfully without any feeling in his right arm.

_The giantess's hand slammed down._

Hakar rolled to the side, allowing the hand to slam against the floor, shaking the building once more. He swung his net, allowing it to catch on her index finger against the ground. With a grunt, Hakar jogged backwards, allowing the strength of his legs and arms to pull Enyfora's arm forward. With Enyfora's arm fully outstretched, Hakar let go and sprinted up her arm, hooves pushing against her skin. Enyfora turned to look him but with a wild growl Hakar rammed his elbow into her right eye. This time Enyfora screamed, rearing backwards.

Hakar jumped backwards in time to watch her trip backwards over the edge. She spun in the air, hands raking against the stone of the opposite tower. But the stone crumbled under her weight and she fell straight down, arms flailing as she rushed down to the acidic fog below.

Hakar Dur backed away, nursing his elbow; pretty sure he had broken the arm with that attack. He took quick note of his situation. The lightning spear was broken, his net now dissolved, his helmet gone…

His thoughts were quickly cut off by an ear piercing scream. The sound of the Heartree Keeper dissolving no doubt.

_A length of wood shot through the side of the building, point sharp._

Hakar barely managed to move out of the way in his surprise. The tree cut through his waist lightly, creating a long thin line. He stumbled backwards, one hand holding the gash, blood dripping between his fingers.

_Two more lengths of wood criss-crossed over each other through the room._

Hakar ran to avoid these lengths of wood as they cracked through the walls. He ran for the stairs, sprinting down them as fast as he could with the wound in his waist. He glanced backwards to see a spiral of tree trunks curl down the top of the stairs blocking his escape route. Leaves burst from the tips of the wood, coating the stone and stairs and crept towards him. Hakar turned around just in time to duck a point aimed right for his head.

Where were the visions? Hakar staggered forward, heading for the next staircase. Another set of curling tree trunks burst outwards, the leaves flourishing outwards. Hakar turned and rushed for the only other exit – the balcony. With a shake of his head, the cyclops leapt for the next building. He landed roughly, hooves scraping against the cobblestone. Hakar glanced behind him to see that the whole of the broken tower had blossomed into a great tree.

His jaw dropped at the sight. The tendrils of wood had wrapped around each so much they were as thick as the tower, the great canopy of leaves atop the wood shadowed many other towers around him. What was going on?

From the balcony he had jumped from, a number of vines shot straight out. Two hit the wall and fell away, three more missed, but one grabbed his arm – the broken one. Hakar Dur gasped but tore the vine away, amber sap falling from the vine like blood. Another vine grabbed his leg, wrapped around the metal and up to his thigh. A third wrapped around his stomach, pulling uncomfortably tight.

He ripped the one off his stomach first and shook his leg to get rid of the second vine. Some of the metal armour peeled off as he escaped, clattering against the floor. Hakar turned around to find that both entrances had been blocked by the tree trunks. He ran to the opposite balcony ready to jump, but stopped short at the sight before him.

The hundreds of towers that spread out into the distance were towers no more. Each had blossomed into a tree, the canopy connecting to create one solid roof of leaves. He couldn't jump to the other towers now… this was it. This tower was the last tower, be it win or lose. But how could he win? There was no sign of Enyfora… but he hadn't looked down. She had fallen, but evidently hadn't died. Hakar ran to the other balcony and peered over the ledge.

Resting on a spider web of tree trunks and leaves was Enyfora; her whole body was coated in bark other than her face, which showed that her eyes were closed and her mouth slightly agape. Hakar Dur had no long ranged weapons. This meant… Hakar cursed. He took four steps backwards, closed his eyes, and prayed to his feathered god. This was it… whatever path he was meant to take, this was it. Either he would overcome this trial or…

Without letting himself think the thought, Hakar Dur used what remained of his strength to sprint forward and boldly dived straight off the balcony. As the air rushed past him he wrenched off his shoulder pauldron and held it in both hands below him. The metal was angular and sharp, and would suffice. Hakar's aim was on point, the pauldron pointed down towards the innocent face of Enyfora.

_A point of wood, shot outwards out of her belly, rushing straight up to meet him._

Hakar could almost feel a laugh bubbling to his lips. A vision received… but no way to avoid it. He gritted his teeth, only hoping that he could reach her face before the point of wood reached him. It was hopeless. It shot up faster than he fell.

The spear of wood pierced him through the belly. Hakar slid to a stop, the wood coated with his blood. He blinked, the edges of his vision blurry. This couldn't be it… this couldn't be the end of his story… not yet… not yet! He slammed the edge of the pauldron into the wood. Hakar was pleased to see it cut deeply. He hit the wood once more and felt himself teeter in the air. The pain in his body was so much that he was afraid he would faint, but if he did there was no guarantee his eye would open again. A third cut finished the job and Hakar fell through the air. He landed atop Enyfora's wooded belly with enough force to push the spear of wood which had impaled him out. This time he screamed and screamed louder as he glanced at the ragged hole it left.

Hakar Dur could barely see but there was no way he could give in to it. He had to fulfil a prophecy… the feathered god said as much… this could not be it. He crawled towards Enyfora's face, every movement sending another spasm of pain through his body. Hakar could see those damn shamans back home laughing, especially that Malkarras. He would show them… show them all… he would save his race!

Hakar had reached her face and managed to push himself to his knees. He lifted the pauldron up high. He _would _save his race! He slammed the pauldron down.

It barely scraped the skin as Hakar Dur fell forward, completely spent. The pauldron clattered from his grasp, falling through the web of wood. Hakar could feel himself sliding on the slick of his blood but there was nothing he could do. The cyclops caught a glimpse of Enyfora's eye opening before he fell.

Enyfora watched as the little-big man fell, curving limply through the air before he hit the fog. She closed her eyes at the contact, hearing only a heavy hiss. She opened her eyes again and caught sight of the mass of trees around her. For a second she thought she was back home, but that wasn't right…

"What happened…?" Enyfora murmured, pulling herself to her feet. Bark peeled and cracked, falling off of her skin. She looked at it in horror. "No… not again…" Standing up straight, she hugged herself tightly. A shaft of white light descended downwards, completely enveloping her body. Enyfora shook her head and stepped backward. "Take me home! Please! I don't want to do any more fighting! Take me home!" The shaft of light followed her and grew brighter. "Take me _home!_" The light grew so bright that it invaded every sense. She could feel her thoughts going. "No… no… take… take-take me… me…"

The shaft of light disappeared, leaving the Towers of Myth empty.


	4. The Golden Colossus vs The Marauder King

**.**

**\- Chapter Four -**

**\- The Golden Colossus vs The Marauder King -**

**\- The Blossom Sea -**

The light from the blazing sun shone down uninterrupted; not a single cloud hung in the sky. The clear air allowed the light to shine down and reflect off the endless sea of flowers like the plants were actually mirrors. If one looked hard enough, they would probably be able to see one of every shade of colour in existence. A slight breeze ruffled the flowers, making the ground glitter with their colour. It was quite a sight to behold.

It was nearly too bright for Hermocrates. The man called the King of the Marauder Horde squinted and blinked, trying to adjust his eyes to the bright light. A tall man and young looking for his age, Hermocrates had shoulder length black hair, parted in the centre, and swept back behind his ears. He had a matching goatee and moustache combo and sported deep brown eyes. A large scar running down the left side of his face started at his forehead, crossed his eye, and stopped on his cheek. He wore a high collared top, yellow in colour that ruffled slightly at his neck and dark grey trousers with various patches sewn in. Knee-jointed armour, silver with a golden rim, covered the lower half of his legs and feet with four gold curved spikes coming out of the front. Similar armour covered his forearms, and the leather gloves he wore, except only his right arm sported the spikes as well as a plate that covered the elbow. The plated armour covered his chest, leaving his arms bare of cloth, and a large dual-plated pauldron decorated his left shoulder; three spikes curving out of it. A thick leather belt was fastened around his waist by a gold and red phoenix carved as its buckle. Three segmented armour pieces, for the sides and front, hung from the belt. Hermocrates completed his ensemble with a tattered brown cloak that hung to his ankles, and sported a tall collar.

Finally getting used to the bright light, Hermocrates raised the sword in his hand to inspect it. It was a longsword forged of black steel that, although straight, sported inward curving edges. The guard was straight, golden in colour, with two angled fangs dropping at the ends. Its pommel was a simple half-globe that shined in the light.

He swung the sword quickly in small loops, generating a low whistling sound, and then levelled it quickly at his opponent. The smile on his face was not unexpected, battle held pleasure for Hermocrates, but he was a little surprised since the opponent was not who he had been promised. The man who had recruited him for this tournament had said he would get a chance to slaughter the warriors of Spectre, without repercussions from either his own Council, or the leaders of his enemies. His opponent was not Spectre, however, since he knew her to be part of Empire; his own side.

"Eaecat!" he roared, lowering his sword to his side. The woman looked down at him from afar, tilting her head as if she was hard of hearing. "The Golden Colossus, Mason of the Melophee Wall, and Guardian of the Rehovian Peaks; Eaecat the Bright Hand. I was not expecting you… but I am glad nonetheless; I have never fought a giant before."

Eaecat was a giant in the literal sense of the word, seeing as she was nearly one hundred and fifty feet tall. She smiled gently and slowly sunk down to a sitting position, allowing her to better hear the human before her. Eaecat, and all giants, generally had brilliant hearing and eyesight better than any bird, but being closer to the target was always a helpful option.

"Hermocrates." She said quietly, avoiding the chance of blowing out the man's ear drums. "The Marauder King. I have heard tale of your exploits, even in Ycaria."

Her skin shined in the light nearly as bright as the sea of flowers plastering the floor. It was cold and hard to the touch with cracks running along the surface like rock. Her eyes were the same, with no pupils, as was her hair; except the hair flowed lightly in the breeze. The white cloth she wore to cover her lower half was fastened at the sides of her waist with golden rings and hung between her legs loosely. A single length of cloth looped around the back of her neck, over her breasts, and was linked at the small of her back by a third golden ring. A pauldron consisting of three separate plates, overlapping one another, rested on her left shoulder and were gold with a bronze pattern covering it. A large circular shield, bronze in colour, rested on the floor next to her and a large silver sword rested on top of it. A helmet, open at the front with chin guards and a golden mohawk, sat on her head snugly.

Hermocrates smiled at her and rested his sword tip-down in front of him, resting his hands on the pommel. "I like that even the gentle giants have heard of me; it makes me seem more successful than I am."

Eaecat smiled in return. "You are more modest than they say though. Although I suspect that is something to do with the fact I am not your mortal enemy."

A dark look flashed across the man's face before he returned to his smile. "Indeed. If you were a Spectre then we would not be having such a pleasant conversation. Do you know why you are here? Or rather, did someone tell you why you are here?"

Eaecat thought for a second before rolling forward and resting her elbows on the floor and her chin on her hands. "A woman explained the idea to me. I refused and yet I still find myself here."

"Yes, well, I guess they just couldn't turn down the opportunity of having you involved." Hermocrates said, still having to crane his neck to look up at the woman before him. "So, with the pleasantries done; shall we continue?"

Eaecat tilted her head to the side. "You wish to combat me? Only one other I have met voluntarily chose to fight."

"You are a scholar and wise beyond any human, Eaecat. Yet, anyone worth their salt knows that you are also a great warrior. You fought off the Ashen One while your men waited for the chrysalis to hatch; you are a unique woman, giant or not. Although I will not yet get the chance to fuel my vengeance, I would be a fool to miss this opportunity."

"Do you have a plan?" Eaecat said with a coy smile on her lips.

Hermocrates raised an eyebrow with a smirk. "Now that would be telling. One moment, though, before we begin."

With a sharp thrust he pierced his sword into the ground and then reached up to the strap that fastened his cloak to his armour. With a quick flick of his fingers, he released the clasp and laid the cloak on the floor, spread wide. Then he reached up and undid the buckles that held his pauldron to his shoulder and placed it in the centre of the cloak. His forearm guards followed, and then the armour that protected his legs, then his belt of plated metal. Finally, he undid his chest armour and pulled it over his head before placing it on the cloak and tying the cloth into a hard package.

This left Hermocrates in his high necked yellow top, with its ruffled collar, and the loose fitting grey trousers with its patches. His feet were now bare because the leg armour had been linked with his leather boots. He wiggled his toes in the grass beneath him, under the flower layer, and quickly stretched his muscles before pulling his sword free and spinning it around him quickly.

Eaecat watched him with interest as he undressed and couldn't help but smile when he lifted his sword. "You do not think you need your armour in combat with me?"

"It's simple really; I figure that if you hit me, my armour will hardly make a difference." Was Hermocrates' reply as he stilled his sword to look back at Eaecat.

The giant rolled to her side and got to her feet slowly. She retrieved her shield, strapping it to her right arm, and then lifted her sword free. She looked down at Hermocrates and took her readying pose; turned so her shield was on the far side of her opponent, while her sword was closest. "Are you sure you're ready?"

Hermocrates couldn't help but shake his head. "A woman one hundred and fifty feet tall…" he muttered. "…with skin as hard as stone yet fluid as water, a shield as wide as a castle and a sword as tall as a building. You sure can pick them."

"Sorry, my ears aren't _that_ good; you'll have to speak up." Eaecat said as she saw his lips move with only a murmur coming from them.

"Let's see how gentle a giant you are, Eaecat!" He roared her name and started forward at a dead sprint, his sword's tip cutting the flower heads at his feet as he moved.

Eaecat reacted instantly and her sword shot forward with a thrust faster than a creature her size had any right to.

Hermocrates took pride in the fact that when facing an enemy in a duel, he could focus enough to feel the vibrations a person's weapon made when passing through the air. His specialty seemed dampened somewhat when he felt a torrent of wind like that of a cyclone trying to force him backwards. His armour was heavy and slowed him in battle, but now he had taken it off he was fast enough to dash to the side and only stumble slightly when Eaecat's blade pierced the ground like a meteorite.

The blow sent rocks and dirt flying into the air and flattened the flowers in all directions. Hermocrates ignored the showering of dirt that landed on him and dashed forward quickly, aiming for Eaecat's ankle. She easily countered the approach by taking a long stride over him and putting distance between them. Hermocrates cursed silently and quickly turned on his heel, dashing forward with a low stance.

With a graceful pivot on her front foot, Eaecat spun around to face Hermocrates again and then dropped to one knee. The shield on her right arm came slamming down and pierced the ground in front of Hermocrates like the Melophee wall itself. The marauder smiled and leapt into the air, spinning violently, and let his blade whip forward to strike the metal in front of him. Sparks flew into the air as his sword coursed across her shield but the only thing that showed he had done anything was a small scratch in its surface; hardly effective, but it was all Hermocrates needed.

He started to step back, to put what distance he could between them, but he suddenly found the metal wall coming towards him before tilting and lifting him into the air. His hands floundered to grab something, anything, to keep him from falling but the shield fell away by itself and left him floating in the air, ready to fall to his death. Eaecat wasn't about to let gravity decide this though as her monstrous blade carved through the air, aiming for the defenceless Hermocrates.

Not that he was as defenceless as Eaecat apparently assumed; with a quick twist in the air, he managed to get his sword between Eaecat's sword and its plan to turn him into red mist. The metals clashed with another shower of sparks and to the giant's surprise, Hermocrates' sword didn't break from the force. He managed to negate any injury but, instead, was sent flying backwards at a tremendous speed.

If Hermocrates hadn't been as confident in himself as he was, he was sure his life would have flashed before his eyes; although he wasn't totally convinced that wasn't going to happen anyway. The wind buffeted his hair in all directions as he tried to right himself and he could see the flowers pass beneath him in a blur of colours. With nimble fingers he spun his sword into a reverse grip and when he was close enough to the ground, he stabbed down quickly. The sudden lurch nearly tore his grip free but he managed to maintain it until he slid to a stop; leaving a long gash in the ground.

With a little effort he pulled his sword free and glanced up to see how far he had flown and his mouth gaped. Eaecat looked like a normal sized person in the distance, although she was rapidly growing as she sprinted in his direction. Hermocrates smiled and felt the scratch he had put in her shield; it was time to flex his muscles a little bit.

As he stared at her approaching, his feet started to slide across the ground and then suddenly, as if yanked by a chain fastened at his waist, he took to the air. Eaecat slid to a stop in surprise and dropped to a knee with her shield in front of her. Hermocrates continued his flight forward, a direct line to her, in a sloping line towards her shield. His speed was increasing the further he travelled and suddenly he was within her swords reach. A look of surprise crossed her face as he slowed to a crawl and let his feet lightly touch the surface of her shield; of which he was now stood on as if the earth's gravity had no effect on him.

"Well, I wasn't expecting that." Eaecat said with a tilt of her head.

"This was forged for me by a Giant-Smith." Hermocrates said with a spin of his sword. "He said he knew you."

Eaecat had a small smile on her face. "Taet always was too friendly with his clients. I take it this anti-gravity is the trick he installed?"

Hermocrates slowly walked forward, still spinning his sword in his hands, until he was at the edge of the shield closest to her face. "He called it 'Directional Gravity' actually. You see, the blade was forged with a core of my blood; it links its powers to me and me alone. To anyone else who wields it, it is just a sword; an indestructible one, I suppose, but a sword nonetheless."

"He used a Blood-Link? I understand that the Council made such forging illegal." Eaecat said.

"Oh, don't worry yourself; I had special dispensation from the Grand Cardinal himself." Hermocrates stepped off the side of the shield suddenly and fell towards Eaecat's face, his sword point aiming at her right eye. Eaecat pulled her head to the side quickly to avoid the blow leaving Hermocrates to scratch the side of her helmet. Eaecat turned her head quickly to see Hermocrates flying away from her.

Hermocrates spun in the air to lock eyes with the giant before he slowed down and started back towards her; still dragged by the invisible rope around his waist. Eaecat stood up, noticing that Hermocrates angle of flight changed as she did, and thrust her sword forward at the point she expected him to be a moment later.

The Marauder curved downwards suddenly, causing him to miss the large blade by millimetres, and struck up with his own blade to scratch the side of her sword. The invisible rope caught him again and he shot at her face like an arrow. Eaecat stepped back in surprise and Hermocrates was jerked downwards at the same time. This didn't perturb him as he landed lightly against the plate of her helmet he had scratched and aimed his blade at her eye again. Eaecat shook her head violently and Hermocrates' aim faltered, his blade slicing across the skin of her nose. The attack cut deep but nothing came from it and the blade remained clean.

"Mmm, I was expecting something if not blood." Hermocrates muttered as Eaecat aimed the pommel of her sword at his position.

Hermocrates released his power and dropped to her shoulder, looking up to see if the wisest giant hit herself; she didn't. He smiled and leapt off her shoulder as she manoeuvred her sword to his position. Normal gravity seemed to be affecting him again as he fell and with a flick of his arm, he sent his sword flying downwards to pierce into the ground. His body jerked downwards and increased his speed before he slowed to land gently on the ground. He immediately pulled his sword free from the ground and jumped sideways as Eaecat side stepped and swung her sword at him.

The giant sword carved a wide trench into the ground but Hermocrates didn't wait for its wielder to finish before leaping across the gap and dashing forward. With unnatural speed, no doubt aided by his abilities, he leapt forward and sliced her across the top of her ankle. As before, his sword cut deep into her stony flesh but nothing like blood came out and Hermocrates had to take another unnatural leap to avoid being stepped on.

He landed on top of her lower cloth covering, the excess of which dragged across the floor, and tripped as Eaecat spun to find him. Hermocrates tumbled head-over-heels until he felt dirt on his face. He quickly jumped to his feet and looked up to see the edge of Eaecat's shield bearing down on him. His ability jerked him into the air again, towards her face, but suddenly Eaecat's sword hand appeared out of nowhere and encased him in a closed fist.

Hermocrates braced himself against being crushed but realised that Eaecat was trying no such thing. He shrugged and gripped his sword before driving it to the hilt into the palm of her hand. This time a small trickle of a shining golden liquid leaked from the wound.

"At last." Hermocrates muttered.

Eaecat grimaced as she felt the sharp pang of pain in her hand. The man's sword may only have been the size of a toothpick, but it was still sharp to the touch. She ignored the pain though as she spun on her feet quickly and with a bend of her elbow, she sent Hermocrates into the air.

He didn't go far, however, as he pulled himself towards her helmet quickly. Hermocrates touched the metal with one foot and passed straight by before falling down her back. As he did, he struck out with his sword and landed a large scratch down her back; although it was not deep enough to draw her blood. He slid to a stop where he was, feet planted against her back, and started sprinting up as Eaecat attempted to reach him with her free hand. He arrived at her shoulder and latched onto her helmet again. Except he didn't touch the helmet, he simply passed by her face, released his power and dropped to her chest.

Before her hand reached him, he sliced across her chest but power jumped away quickly as she slapped the place he had been moments before. Hermocrates pulled on her ankle and twisted in the air to land feet first. The world blurred as Eaecat kicked ferociously and Hermocrates let himself fly off her and into the air. This time he pulled on her sword, which she had pierced into the ground nearby to free her hand, and zipped downwards. He bounced off it and pulled on her palm, flying up towards her with his sword dragging beside him. Suddenly the air spun wildly and her shield appeared to his side to slam into him.

He cried out, pretty sure he had just broken his left arm as it bent at a funny angle beside him, but he pulled on the shield to keep himself there as Eaecat twisted the shield and slapped down. He pulled on her chest and when he was close to her skin, but before touching, he pulled on her helmet and shot upwards like an arrow. He passed by her face and in her surprise, used the opportunity to slice his blade forward. It passed across the surface of her eye and her golden blood spurted out as she cried out and dropped to one knee. She threw her shield aside, generating what felt like a small earthquake when it hit the floor, and covered her eye.

Hermocrates pulled on her back and bounced off her shoulder before pulling on the floor and landing gently. Eaecat spun round, a strange look on her face, and suddenly lunged forward with her free hand. Hermocrates pulled on it to take to the air but she lifted her hand and he was jerked along with it. With a grimace he switched to her ankle and pulled himself downwards. Once again, Eaecat moved her ankle quickly and Hermocrates found himself jerked wildly. He could feel his insides bouncing around and was starting to ache all over.

With a pull on her chest, Hermocrates changed his trajectory but Eaecat was quick to react again. This time, however, she stepped forward boldly and Hermocrates found his floor closer than he had been expecting. He landed and grimaced as a small crack sounded at his shins; he was pretty sure he had just cracked both of his legs with the force of the landing.

He pulled on the flowered ground quickly and shot downwards. A metre or so above it, he pulled on her ankle and passed by it before pulling on her back and rising upwards. He switched to her helmet and twisted to land on top of her head by releasing his power. Immediately, Eaecat switched her hand covering her eye to grip the helmet and dropped it beside her. Hermocrates pulled on her eye, zoomed past it, and landed on her metal pauldron, slicing the metal quickly before stepping forward to jump off.

It was a surprise to him to find the flat of Eaecat's sword blade rushing towards him; he pulled on it quickly to get into the air and then pulled on her eye to pull himself out of harm's way. Metal clashed against metal as Hermocrates flew backwards and back flipped before switching his pull to the ground again. However, as he dropped downwards quicker than normal, Eaecat's other hand appeared out of nowhere and Hermocrates barely had time to brace himself before he was slapped out of the air.

Cries of pain escaped from him as he hit the floor and bounced a few times, rolling to a stop. His sword carried on bouncing, out of his reach, before piercing into the ground lightly. Hermocrates quickly took stock of his injuries and grimaced when he realised most of the bones in his body had broken. He took in a series of ragged breaths through wobbly teeth and lowered his eyes to Eaecat.

The giant leader had reattached her shield to her arm and held her sword lightly. A small trickle of her golden blood stained her cheek below her eye but it had stopped actively bleeding. She dropped down to one knee and bent over until she was close to him.

"I'm sorry to hurt you so much, you surprised me with that eye strike. It hurt." She said, softly.

Hermocrates started laughing and then stopped with a grimace. "That was the plan. Thank you, by the way." Eaecat looked confused. "I told you I hadn't fought a giant before and it was nice to get the chance. But I'm finished, I can't carry on; this is your win." Eaecat smiled. "I'll get some training in and then we should try this again, I reckon I'll be able to beat you in a year or two."

"That would be… interesting. Although perhaps I should test you against some of my friends first; I wouldn't want to kill you."

"Heh." Hermocrates said before he leant his head back to rest his neck.

The two of them stayed silent for a couple of moments, Eaecat glancing around slightly, before the giant broke the silence. "Isn't something meant to happen to indicate the winner?"

Hermocrates looked around himself and half shrugged, pain wracking his body. "A light or something should come down; you haven't killed me but the rules say incapacitating me should be enough."

"Are you sure you are incapacitated?" Eaecat said slowly.

Hermocrates allowed a small grin. "I'm pretty sure all the bones in my body are broken. I'd be hard pressed to do anything at all, let alone fight."

Eaecat pondered for a minute before standing up. "Hard pressed… but it wouldn't be impossible for you. If I was a proper opponent for you, you'd fight to the bitter end, wouldn't you."

"Come on, you can't really think I'm holding back on you?"

"Not holding back, no. But you aren't trying as hard as you can. Can you really say, truthfully, that you cannot continue this fight?"

Hermocrates frowned. "It seems the event organisers think so. Oh well, let's finish this then." His body suddenly dragged along the ground, Hermocrates ignoring the pain, and bounced once before he reached out and grabbed the hilt of his sword. He let a cry of pain out, but he pulled on her eye and shot towards at an intense speed.

Eaecat stepped back in surprise and before she knew it, her sword was flying up to meet him. She couldn't stop it, but she was sure Hermocrates could dodge the move fairly easily. He didn't alter his path though and simply stared at her good eye as her sword got closer and closer to her.

"Kill the Spectres for me!" he roared as metal met flesh and his body was ripped into a thousand pieces with a cloud of red mist.

Eaecat opened her mouth in surprise and froze with her blade still outstretched, a small red stain the only remains of the Marauder King. A bright column of light encompassed her and with a flash, Eaecat was removed from the battle as its winner.


	5. The Beast vs The Exile

**\- Chapter Five -**

**\- The Beast vs The Exile -**

**\- Meydar -**

Ar Jek stared out from under his spiked metal helm, slobber running down the two long fangs that pointed up from his lower jaw. His armour was rough and mismatched, randomly picked from battles. They served their purpose. A red pelt of a Cave-Cat was wrapped around his waist, paws and tail hanging downwards. Ar Jek glared down the dirt road that let through a small village of cobble huts with straw roofs. At the other end of the road a woman stood, glancing about. Ar Jek snarled and charged.

The bronze-skinned woman did not remember losing the battle back home. A man had the gall to approach her without respect and Ashka had drawn her sword, ready to teach him his place. Now she stood in what looked to be a small farm town including a church with a short tower. Surrounding the dozen or so buildings were fields upon fields of wheat, bursting out into the horizon in a sea of yellow.

Ashka was a well-muscled woman and a beautiful warrior. The armour she wore was sparse – a spiked pauldron on her right shoulder and a plated one on her left. A spiked guard ran down the side of her left thigh and calf, separated at the knee. A plated guard ran up her right calf, ending just below the knee. Strapped to her right thigh was a long dagger, in case of emergencies. A cloth of chain ran down from her gold-buckled belt and her breasts were bound tightly with chainmail. A plume of spiked red hair shot out of her horned helmet, smoothing out into a river of hair that narrowed as it descended.

She gripped her sword – a tall blade with large, sharp grooves running up from the top of the hilt to the double-pointed end. There were better sights to see than the Beast of the Mountains running straight for you. The stories about Ar Jek were near legendary. While a great warrior, he was an orc without control, without regard for any life, without strategy. Ar Jek's goal was simple. To massacre. Even if Ashka didn't have a faint memory of a set of rules in her head she knew that she wouldn't be able to reason with her Draken brethren. Ar Jek was not the kind of person you talked to.

He came on her like a storm without any kind of hesitation. His great stone war-club was brought down with two hands. Ashka hopped backwards as the stone split the dirt path, sending clumps of mud spitting in all directions. Without pausing to contemplate the missed attack, Ar Jek spun in a circle, sending a vicious swipe at Ashka. She brought up her sword to block the attack.

That was a mistake. Misjudging the power Ar Jek had the club smashed into the sword and sent her rolling backwards. She scrambled to her feet just in time to block a second attack – just as hard if not harder than the first. She was propelled backwards, her back hitting a cobble wall of a small house. Ashka ducked as Ar Jek swung, the club crashing through the cobble wall, completely capsizing the wall to reveal a small room inside.

Ar Jek swept his club in a horizontal line, whooshing closely past Ashka's stomach. Now inside the building, Ashka knew she had to get on the offensive soon. Ar Jek would only get faster and stronger the more he had the advantage. She swung her sword, hoping to catch his neck as Ar Jek walked into the room. It glanced off the armour curving over his shoulders, scraping down the armour. Ar Jek reacted instantly, swinging the club at Ashka's unprotected arm. The stone hit her spiked arm-guard, smashing it to bits. A sting of pain ran up her arm as she stumbled further backwards. She shook the pain away and dodged to the right as Ar Jek smashed a new hole into the house.

She grunted as she swung her sword in an arc, cutting through the back of Ar Jek's knee. If it fazed him he showed no sign. Instead the beast swung his free arm backwards, his fist connecting with her helmet, causing her head to ring with pain. Ashka tried to gather her bearings but the stone club met her stomach before she could.

Ashka slammed against the inner wall of the house with a gasp. The club had hit her like a boulder and she could feel a couple of fractured, perhaps even broken ribs. Ar Jek snarled and rose the club up over his head with both hands. That weapon had to go. Ashka stepped forward and swept her sword upwards. It cut through the wooden shaft of the club easily enough. The stone fell backwards, dropping against the grassy floor of the house.

Once again Ar Jek showed no hesitation or shock. He leapt forward quick as a snake with the shaft of the club. He drove the wooden spike deep into her unprotected right arm. Ashka couldn't help but let out a sharp scream as blood welled up in the wound. She stumbled towards the doorway, the spike still in her arm.

Her sight suddenly went black as she felt a great force on the back of her head. She hit the dirt hard, bits of gravel cutting up her face. Ashka groaned, turning to her back to see that Ar Jek had thrown the stone end of the club. He was now sprinting towards her. Ashka didn't have time to do anything before his foot met her nose.

The crack was audible and Ashka yelled out in pain as blood spurted from the obviously broken nose. Ar Jek lifted her by the hair and boldly threw her across the road to hit another building. Ashka stood straight, her weapon now abandoned on the road. Ar Jek came in with a fist to her stomach, then one to her waist. Another blow to the stomach followed by a third. Ashka managed to bring her hands up to grab both of his arms but without a pause Ar Jek drove his head forward, right into her broken nose.

Bursts of lights sped through her vision, the pain in her head too much to even notice the beating she was taking at the fists of Ar Jek. That was until his fist hit her straight in the jaw. Ashka crumbled to one knee, blood dripping from her broken nose and a cut lip. Ar Jek drove his knee up and for the third time hit Ashka straight in the nose. This time Ashka lost consciousness for a second or two for when she opened her eyes Ar Jek was straddling her, hands closed tightly around her throat with her back against the floor.

Ar Jek's hands may have been small but they were strong. There was no way she could breath and the pain from her nose was too much. Ar Jek was a monster. She knew of his reputation and heard tell of his acts of brutality but experiencing the wave that was Ar Jek was incredible. She had slain the beast Geyhar, led her forces of ten into an army of five hundred and ensured everyone had lived, went head to head with Olfen Dur and survived to talk about it.

Regaining her senses and feeling like her lungs were about to burst, Ashka droves her palms into Ar Jek's shoulder and pushed, switching the position. She went to latch her own hands around his throat but he kicked her off with both feet. Ashka stumbled backwards only for Ar Jek to ram into her shoulder-first on the stomach. Both Draken hit the floor in spatters of mud. Ar Jek slammed his fist down to Ashka's face, but Ashka had the sense to move it this time. His hand slammed into mud and Ashka drove her fist upwards, connecting with Ar Jek's sharp jaw.

Ar Jek's head was flung back and Ashka knew she had to take the chance. She followed up with a fist to the throat. Ar Jek made a sound that could have been a choke but Ashka let out a savage growl and pushed Ar Jek upwards onto her shoulder. His legs flailed as she rammed his spine into a notice-board for the farming village. She smashed Ar Jek straight through it and continued forward, finally stopping by cracking his spine against the corner of the small church. Ar Jek slammed his fists down on her back, clawing at it with sharp nails. Ashka refused to let go and stepped backwards, only to slam him back-first against the corner once more.

Ar Jek put his feet against the stone of the church wall and pushed forward, sending Ashka off-balanced. Ar Jek scrambled from her shoulder and grabbed her arm, whipping her boldly into the oak of the church doors. The doors rattled but stayed closed. Ar Jek dove forward and speared himself into her stomach once more with his shoulder and sent both of them through the doors that snapped off the hinges.

Ashka used the momentum of the move to fling Ar Jek over her head. He landed with a crunch against a pew, snapping it into shards of wood. Ar Jek came up quickly, a long piece of pew in each hand like daggers. He sliced rapidly towards her, but Ashka scrambled to the side. Ar Jek turned and continued to swipe through the air. Ashka reached out and grabbed a long part of the pew herself, bringing it up to block the attacks.

However two weapons were better than one. Ar Jek drove one of the shards into Ashka's ribs, causing her to grit her teeth. Ashka slapped his remaining shard out of his hand with her own and sent its point up towards Ar Jek's open, snarling mouth.

Ar Jek bit down, cracking the wood in his teeth. Ashka barely had time to contain her surprise before he threw a wild punch at her. She blocked with her arm and sent her own at Ar Jek. He weaved underneath it and threw an uppercut. Ashka moved her head backwards, allowing his fist to fly upwards. She grabbed the outstretched limb and tugged on it hard, sending Ar Jek face first onto the floor. Ashka brought her sandaled foot up and slammed it down on the back of his head, but Ar Jek was too quick for that. He slithered backwards on all fours and grabbed hold of an unbroken pew.

He roared ferociously and lifted the whole pew up, swinging it around like a pole-arm. Ashka dropped to a crouch, allowing the pew to swing over her head. Ar Jek let it go, allowing it to smash against the wall. Ashka sprung upwards, driving a sharp elbow into the top of Ar Jek's chest, just above the low-hanging chest-plate he wore. Ar Jek took a couple of steps backwards so Ashka continued to attack. She cracked a fist into his jaw, his cheek, and the temple. The strike to the temple cut his skin wide open, causing a crimson river to run down his eye. Ar Jek only seemed to get wilder.

He grabbed Ashka's fist and sent his own into her side. Ashka responded with one of her arms to his unprotected ribs. Ar Jek replied with a harder punch, punishing her almost certainly broken ribs now. The blow caused her to move backwards and that was all Ar Jek needed. He descended on her in a flurry of blow. She could barely block the blows that were aimed her head, freely taking the ones to her ribs. Ashka backed up under the force and number of blows, until her heel hit a step.

She realized that she had come to the bottom of the stairwell leading up the small tower. Ashka continued to back up the stairs as Ar Jek's wild strikes flooded her. At the top of the stair Ashka stepped backwards quickly, letting Ar Jek hit open air. With the opening in front of her, Ashka slammed the palm of her hand into his chest-plate, sending him recoiling backwards. He teetered at the edge of the tower but flung himself forward again.

Ashka popped him in the jaw with a sharp strike of her fist. Ar Jek blinked, disoriented, the slobber coming out of his mouth in thick drops. She hit him again and again and again in the same place until she was certain he was unconscious on his feet. Ashka grabbed his shoulders and threw him straight to the side – and off the side of the church.

Ar Jek hit the floor fifteen foot below hard, his head bouncing off the ground. Finally free from his flurry, Ashka backed up and leant over, catching her breath. She wiped the blood from her face, pulled the wooden spike from her right arm, and spat a bloody bit of phlegm to the floor. Ashka glanced over to Ar Jek to find he had moved from his spot on the ground. Unbelievably he was climbing straight up the side of the tower like a spider, his clawed nails digging into the stone.

With time to think, Ashka remembered her short sword and drew it, ready for the orc. He burst up with a lunge and landed on his feet, glaring at Ashka. Ashka let out a war cry and sent her short sword forward to impale his neck.

Ar Jek lifted his hand to protect himself and the knife slid through his hand like butter. For a second Ashka grinned, but it was wiped off her face when Ar Jek clenched his hand, dagger and all, over her own. His free hand shot up and squeezed her throat tightly. Ar Jek rushed forward and Ashka had no choice but to move backwards to stop from falling over.

When they reached the edge of the tower Ar Jek didn't stop. He pushed her over the edge and the duo fell through the air, heavily slamming through the top of a house. The straw and wood capsized underneath them and they hit the floor with a heavy thud.

Ashka found herself atop Ar Jek and slammed her fist down onto his pointed nose, trying to get revenge for her own. It snapped with a satisfying _crack. _She glanced about the room for a suitable weapon and grabbed at a stool, raising it so the seat was pointed down at Ar Jek's face. She slammed it down as hard as she could, twice, three times. On the fourth slam, the thick wood of the stool snapped in two, revealing the animalistic face of Ar Jek, face bloody from his nose.

His fist found her broken ribs and Ashka gasped, falling to the side. She managed to get to her feet and stumble to the left to avoid Ar Jek's lunge. For once, he seemed slower. Whether it was the fall or the stool, Ashka didn't know. All she knew was that perhaps this was the best chance she had. She kicked the table the stool had sat at, knocking it into the side of Ar Jek's leg.

The beast of a man fell to one knee with a growl, but before he could rise, Ashka pivoted on her left foot, slamming her calf into Ar Jek's head as hard as she could. The metal of his helm buckled under the force and Ar Jek collapsed in a heap on the ground. Ashka glanced up to the ragged hole in the roof, marvelling at being able to survive that fall. Next she took note of all the injuries that she had. Broken ribs, a broken nose, a hole in her right arm, another in her side… not to mention the bruises.

She had to either kill Ar Jek or make him unable to fight. The blow to his head had only knocked him unconscious and he'd start stirring soon enough. The dagger lay strewn on the ground, covered in Ar Jek's blood. She picked it up, knelt over Ar Jek's motionless body, and held the point over his throat. It would be a shame to kill such a brilliant, if beastly, warrior.

Ar Jek's awakening was so sudden Ashka barely reacted as his teeth latched hard around her shoulder at the base of her neck, impaling deeply in the flesh. She blinked at the shock and could have sworn the world slowed down. Glancing down, she could see Ar Jek, helmet and skull partly caved in from her kick, gnashing deeply on her shoulder. Blood seeped down her chainmail bindings in rivulets, dripping to the floor.

* * *

"_Ashka, what is this?"_

"_I was interrogating the Draken spy! I was…"_

"_What have you done!?"_

"_Voel, this man is Draken!"_

"_That does not mean he does not have rights. You've killed him!"_

"_He wouldn't give me answers!"_

"_He didn't deserve death!"_

* * *

Ar Jek pulled away, tearing flaps of flesh away from muscle. The dagger dropped from her hand as Ashka stumbled backwards, stopping to lean against the table. Ar Jek snatched up the blade and buried it deep into her belly. Ashka bent forward involuntarily, her chin resting on Ar Jek's shoulder.

* * *

"_Ashka…"_

"_You've told me enough times Voel. And as I've told you enough times, I'm sorry."_

"_That is not enough, Ashka. I'm sorry. The Empire is built on rules and regulations. If you can't follow the rules—"_

"_Are you going to kill me?"_

"_Why would you think that? No… I am exiling you, Ashka. Find a new home, somewhere they'll appreciate your talents. Perhaps the bandits down at Folkner's Pass."_

"_You'd make me a bandit!? …I'd rather you kill me."_

* * *

The dagger was pulled out, blood spattering against the opposite wall at the vicious movement. Ar Jek twisted the dagger in his hand and thrust it deep in the top of her left shoulder.

* * *

"_Hahaha! You come to us? A soldier of the Empire? A woman!?"_

"_I am not Empire. Not anymore. And my gender has nothing to do with it. I can cut a man down as well as any of your bandits."_

"_I'm not a fool. Friends—kill her."_

* * *

Ashka pulled away from the knife, ears ringing, and her vision hazy. She stumbled to the door, turning her back on Ar Jek. The mistake earned her a knife through the back, diagonally thrust up her left hip.

* * *

"_You've killed forty of my men… and now you kneel before me, bloody and beaten."_

"_Just kill me."_

"_Is that what you want, Ashka?"_

"_I have no reason to be in this world."_

"_I don't agree. You wielded that blade like a warrior. When it broke, you picked up the next one, completely different in size, just a well."_

"_Kill me, bandit!"_

"_No. I will spare you. And you will show that savagery that you showed me to the rest of the world. To the Empire. Those that cast you out. I can take you somewhere where you will be accepted, where your violence will not be punished, but rewarded."_

"…_where?"_

"_Draken."_

* * *

"Draken…" Ashka whispered through the blood in her mouth and the pain in her body. "Empire… Empire!" The pain filtered away and she could feel something bubbling within her, something… scary. "They cast me out… they cast me out! They abandoned me!" Ashka swung around and slammed her forearm into Ar Jek's face. With her other hand she grabbed the back of his head and smashed it against the house's door. It buckled and splintered at the force and Ar Jek stumbled forward out into open air.

Ashka bounded across the dirt path and crashed her shoulder into the chest of Ar Jek. He rolled backwards, springing back to his feet only for Ashka to bend her head and slam her helmet into his ribs. The horn impaled him all the way to the base. With a twist, the horn snapped off, disappearing in a well of blood. Ar Jek let out a howl of pain but punched Ashka in the face.

She didn't even feel it.

Ashka cracked her own fist into Ar Jek's bloodied temple, sending him staggering. She slammed her knee into his stomach, and followed up by slamming the knee into his lowered face. His head reared back and Ashka snatched her dagger from his hand and drove it deep into his neck.

The howl was louder but turned into a gurgle. Blood bubbled and dripped from his neck. Ar Jek stumbled back, finally stopped. His tongue lolled out of his mouth before he pulled it back in and charged. Ashka didn't even contemplate that he had somehow ignored the grievous wound. She ducked as she pulled the knife from his throat, twisting around so he ran right past. As he turned, Ashka drove the knife up into his ribcage. Ar Jek grabbed her wrists and drove his knee deep into her groin.

That was a surprise. Ashka buckled as if she were a man with a groan. The pounding in her head was unreal, although a voice hidden deep in the pounding told her that the wounds she had were fatal. Ar Jek, blood pouring from his throat, barely cared about his own fatal wound. He slammed into her and they rolled in the dirt. Ashka felt metal on her back as she pushed Ar Jek away. She felt a grin come to her split lip.

Ar Jek charged again, screaming. Ashka swung up with her sword that she had dropped what felt like hours ago. It sliced through skin, muscle, and bone with ease. Ar Jek's right arm flew into the air in a trail of blood, landing softly on the ground.

Ashka should have guessed that even that wouldn't have stopped Ar Jek.

She ducked under his left arm and swung horizontally, cutting through the deep flesh of his thigh. Ar Jek's left leg fell away from his body. Ashka realized that she was truly looking at a monster. He hopped towards her, left arm flailing, fighting to the very end. Gripping her sword with both hands, she swung diagonally upward. The curve of the strike took him under the jaw and came out the back of his neck.

His head bounced off the ground, rolling to a stop four feet away. His body fell to the side, motionless. Ashka half expected his head to keep gnashing. Instead, it was finally still, his bloody tongue touching the dirt floor. She limped over to him with the dagger she had left in his ribcage and slammed it down, impaling the head through the ear. "Just to be safe…" Ashka muttered.

The pain came over her in a tidal wave and she caught a glimpse of pure white light before the white was replaced with black.


	6. Mistress Archer vs The Champion

**.**

**\- Chapter Six -**

**\- Mistress Archer vs The Champion -**

**\- The Parched Path ****-**

With a quick movement of her hand, Genildaa drew the fletching of the arrow to her cheek and took aim at the opponent below her. The heat from the sand made the air shimmer, as if creating a mirage, but the reflection of the sun on his armour told Genildaa her opponent was very real. She flexed her fingers and her bowline snapped forward, sending her arrow towards her opponent in a blur. He smiled and turned his body slightly, allowing the arrow to hit his armoured shoulder and splinter into a thousand pieces. Genildaa frowned and nocked another arrow before moving further along the tall dune she had taken position on.

The heat was nearly unbearable, but a light breeze touched her blue skin from time to time. Genildaa didn't envy her opponent in his heavy armour. Her own clothing was minimal and lightweight. Her shoes of stout leather, dyed a dark purple, with thick soles were probably the heaviest thing on her. Green cloth was wrapped the length of her left leg from ankle to hip with a few buckled straps holding it in place. Her right leg was covered to just above the knee with a white, brown speckled stocking with a purple band wrapped below her knee holding small spikes to the back of her leg. A leather belt around her waist held a purple loincloth over brown undergarments. Parchment thin metal, bronze in colour, covered her breasts while leaving ample cleavage visible while the same metal covered her left shoulder in three plates. Her left arm was covered with tight leather and her hand was bare. In contrast, her right arm was bare with a brown glove covering the hand.

A golden band was wrapped around her head, pushed up to keep her long orange hair out of her face. Small stones with round mounted gems at their centre pointed up from the band and rested in Genildaa's wild hair. The bow she held in her left hand was light purple in colour and sported spines running outwards from its handle. Whenever she drew back, hinges bent backwards at half the distance from each end. A leather quiver holding numerous arrows seemingly made of wood was hung on her right hip by a leather strap around her bare midriff.

As soon as she had regained her senses, and spotted her opponent, Genildaa had taken to the highest dune she could see in the harsh light; distance would be her friend in this particular battle. She didn't rate herself low in close combat, but something told her if she tangled with the Indestructible Voel, leader of the Empire, she would come out with a loss. Despite coming from Abyss, Genildaa had heard of Voel; most people would have. Ruthless in battle and blood thirsty to boot, Genildaa needed to hit his vitals below his armour if she was going to win.

Voel trekked slowly to follow the blue skinned Abyss, feeling the sand give way beneath his weight. It was this weight that prevented him from simply climbing the dune to reach her, he would flounder and fall and no doubt end up at the bottom in a hole. So he simply bided his time; his armour would protect him from her flimsy arrows and eventually she'll decide she needed to move position to beat him.

The armour that had made Voel into a leader of the Empire, shining in the light of the bright sun above, was golden in colour and covered him from head-to-toe. The only skin on show was around his eyes, nose, and mouth and a small ring around his neck to allow him to look around without hindrance. Each segment of his armour had been made from a single sheet of metal and had been joined by metal links hidden under the armour and out of view. Covering his knees were circles of red enamel with phoenixes mounted on top with their wings outstretched. Similar red segments, minus the phoenixes, were visible at his elbows in small triangles. His helmet had phoenix wings outstretched from the eye with a raised ridge running along its centre.

Two swords were strapped to his back by metal loops, each blade built for a single hand. The hilts were carved into phoenixes with red leather handles and a thick, solid bar as their guards. The blades were slightly curved with a golden triangle holding them to the handles. A larger two-handed version was held in his right hand, although this one was missing a guard; the handle leading straight into the blade instead.

Genildaa fired another arrow from her vantage point, aiming for the centre of his head, but Voel simply raised his left arm to block it. Genildaa cursed silently and decided that she needed to change the momentum in order to gain the upper hand. So she nocked another arrow and took a step forward to drop slightly onto the downwards slope that led to Voel and expertly controlled her balance to allow her to surf on the soles of her own shoes.

Voel smiled and dashed forward with surprising speed, given his armour, his sword already raised to attack. As Genildaa released another arrow, Voel hit the sand in front of him and sent a wave of it in the air. He ducked low as the arrow was thrown back and aimed a wide swing to where he guessed the girl would be. As it would have it, Genildaa had shot forward with a slide and appeared below him, a drawn arrow aimed at his bent forward face.

She loosed and Voel had to turn his head awkwardly to allow the arrow to splinter against his cheek guard. Genildaa continued her impressive slide between his wide stance before popping back to her feet. She immediately drew another arrow but instead of nocking it, she leapt forward onto his back and aimed to pierce him in the flesh of his neck. She was too close for his longsword so Voel used his free hand to interrupt the strike and shatter her arrow. He felt her brace to jump away but he snatched forward quickly and caught her around the wrist.

With a sharp tug he pulled her off his back and slammed her to the ground in front of him with a plume of sand. Immediately his sword hand swiped down and aimed to sever her in half. However, Genildaa was flexible and managed to dodge the blow while still being held around the wrist. She twisted to her feet and with a sharp, whipped tug, she managed to free her hand. With a quick shuffle-step Genildaa doubled the distance between them and drew another arrow to fire. However, now that she had closed the distance, Voel wasn't about to let her get away again.

His sword was long and with a lunge forward, he was nearly upon her again. She dodged to his side and fired her arrow at his right eye, but he spun quickly and the arrow shattered on his back. Lightning quick, Genildaa drew another arrow and nocked it before aiming at the sky. This arrow was different from the others, sporting dark red feathers compared to the grey of the others, and had a thicker shaft with black bands down its length. She loosed it upwards and dropped her aim before pulling two more arrows from her quiver.

One was her normal grey arrow while the second was identical but with blue fletching. Voel was just finishing his spin when she loosed and he was quick enough to raise a hand to block the grey arrow that was aimed at his face. He hadn't even seen the second arrow and looked down in surprise as it hit him in the chest. The wood shaft shattered on impact but the pale blue liquid housed within the shaft carried on forwards and splashed across his armour, sticking in place. Small grey wisps started rising as Voel tried to wipe the liquid off, only for it to stick to his hand as well.

"What is this stuff?" Voel said with his rugged voice filled with anger.

Genildaa didn't reply, instead she gestured with her bow for him to look up. He paused before glancing up and Genildaa quickly loosed an arrow at his exposed neck. Without even looking down, Voel moved his sword and intercepted the arrow, and then he looked down with a smile.

"I'm not that stupid." Voel growled as he stepped forward.

Suddenly a metal bar crashed into the top of his head and he dropped to one knee in surprise. A second one descended and clanged against his shoulder, causing him to reach a hand out to stop himself from falling flat on his face. A third one fell and struck him in the back, but he was stable enough to resist its force. Finally a fourth one dropped and hit him in the head again, knocking it downwards but otherwise doing no damage. Genildaa dropped to one knee and loosed another arrow at Voel's chest.

The angle he was leant at meant the arrow hit his chest and ricocheted to the sand below him. However, as it did so, a spark was created between the two and suddenly his chest had head was engulfed in flames. Voel roared in pain and leapt to his feet, attempting to put the fire out by patting it with his hand; of course, his hand also caught on fire and he screamed again.

Genildaa pulled another custom arrow from her quiver, this one with violet plumage, and aimed between his legs. When it hit the ground, the arrow's shaft exploded outwards and a netting of steel wire wrapped around Voel's ankles. Still stumbling from the pain of the fire nearly engulfing his head, Voel tripped on the wire and ended up face first in a sand dune. Genildaa sprinted up to him, placed a foot on his back and then bent forward to touch the tip of her drawn arrow to the back of his neck.

"You're not so tough." She said.

Suddenly, Voel twisted on the ground and Genildaa stumbled letting her arrow loose into the sand by Voel's head. The fire had been suffocated by the sand and a large angry burn now covered the left side of his face. His unburnt hand reached up and latched around Genildaa's leg, Voel's sword now rested in the sand a few feet away from him, and he pulled her to the ground beside her. He then stood up, leg still held tight, and dragged her along the ground to another rising dune.

Genildaa struggled to no avail so nocked an arrow and drew; then she stopped as she realised the only view she had was his armoured back. Voel lifted her by her leg and slammed her into the dune, causing her to drop her arrow, her long training the only reason she still held tightly to her bow.

With his longsword still on the ground away from him, Voel pulled one of the shorter swords from his shoulder and immediately stabbed forward with the intent of piercing Genildaa's stomach. She bent away from it, allowing it to pierce into the sand beside her, before gripping his wrist in both her hands and kicking him in the face with her heavy boots. He reared back but she held him in place by his wrist before rolling over it and depositing him on the floor in a plume of sand.

Voel grunted as Genildaa rolled to straddle his wide chest and aim another arrow, which she had managed to nock in the roll, at his face. Immediately, his free hand came up and knocked the bow off-aim before stretching out and latching around her face. Voel threw her off him quickly and rolled to his feet, sheathing his sword as he did.

As Genildaa got to one knee and shook her head to rid her off the double vision she was having, Voel walked over and picked up his long sword. He turned around to walk back to Genildaa and had to jerk sideways to avoid another arrow. However, at the same time he took a step forward. She fired another arrow but he did the same; dodging and taking a step forward until he was within reach. His large sword flashed surprisingly quickly and Genildaa barely dodged it with a quick side step.

She would have liked to back up to create distance, but Voel had managed to trap her within a particularly steep sand dune. Any attempt to climb it, regardless of their weight difference, would have resolved in a swift sword to her back. Instead, she fired another arrow and ran forward, dropping to a slide to get past him.

Apparently, Voel couldn't be tricked twice by the same thing as he quickly reverse gripped his sword and pierced it into the ground in Genildaa's path. Her feet hit it, but instead of coming to a stop as he thought she would, she used the momentum to flip up over him. She touched the top of his helmet with her foot and landed behind him. As Voel spun, sword out to attack, Genildaa dived backwards and avoided the blow with a roll.

Voel continued forward, his longsword swinging left and right quickly. Genildaa had no time to fire an arrow off so instead focused on ducking and diving to avoid his attacks. Eventually he slowed, sweat pouring down his face, and Genildaa realised that the heat of the desert was getting to him in his heavy armour. She could feel the heat on her skin too, but she guessed it was much worse for him.

With that in mind, she started to hang around in his range. Voel attacked a few times before suddenly stopping and stepping back to look carefully at her. He may have been a brute force kind of fighter, but he was smart enough to see when someone was trying to wear him out; it wasn't the first time someone had tried the same trick. So, he solved it the same way he had the last time; his free hand reached up to grasp one of his small swords and in a flash he had sent it flying towards his opponent.

Genildaa was caught off guard by the sudden attack, it was the last thing she would have suspected, and the blade carved a gouge out of her right leg. She managed to suppress a scream but she dropped to one knee and clasped the wound tight with her free hand, the other resting the bow on the ground to support her weight.

Voel walked forward and clasped his longsword in both hands before raising it above his head. Genildaa looked up at him, and as the blade came rushing down she suddenly sprung up on her good leg. The blade must have touched the hair on her arm as she passed by it, flipped once and landed on his shoulders in a one legged crouch; the injured one hanging down his armour.

Before he could do anything, he felt cold metal against the sides of his neck and grimaced as Genildaa loosed the two arrows she had nocked mid-flight, before jumping away as he swiped at her with his sword. She landed with a grunt, her leg giving out and dumping her on the floor, and looked up at Voel who had a smile on his face. She was spent, with the leg injury and the heat; she wouldn't be able to resist him any longer.

However, as he took a step forward, he felt a warm liquid rolling down his chest. He looked down but his armour was clean, except for the grey patch Genildaa's liquid arrow had created earlier. Then he reached up with his free hand to his neck. Immediately he felt the liquid and realised what had happened. The two arrows Genildaa had fired either side of his neck had sliced both of his carotid arteries and now his heart was pumping his blood out of his body.

He pressed down on the wounds to try and stop the bleeding but he knew it was too late, he could already feel himself weakening. He dropped his longsword and tried to use both hands to stem the blood flow but had no luck. Genildaa just sat and watched from her seated position. Voel couldn't help but feel impressed, not many people could have exploited his armour in such a way and so quickly. He nodded once, an acknowledgement of her ability, before collapsing forward heavily.

Genildaa struggled to her feet and hobbled over to Voel's fallen form. The sand around him was slowly being dyed red by his blood, and she exhaled as she realised it was over. Then a small laugh escaped her lips as she realised she had managed to beat the Empire's best soldier; a man said to be immortal.

She was still laughing when the white light descended from above and pulled her from the arena.


	7. The Minotaur vs The Queen Of The Fairies

**.**

**\- Chapter Seven -**

**\- The Minotaur vs The Queen of Faeries -**

**\- Bereallia -**

The snow was drifting down thick and lazily, clinging to Miselai's moss green hair. The snow was thick, thick enough for Miselai not to be able to make much out. Great shadows of mountains could be seen in the distance, murky grey through the snow, overlooking the arena. Miselai peered about with her bright emerald eyes trying to make out any sign of her opponent, whoever that may be.

The fairy messenger had come to her while she was seated on her throne, bowing low and full of courtesies. Being the beloved woman that she was, Miselai had heard the young fairy out. She had been invited to a tournament - a series of battles fit for a queen like herself. The messenger was clever to announce the invite in front of Miselai's subjects. She couldn't refuse such an invitation in front of the men and women of her court. Miselai had been told that she wouldn't know who her challenger was until she was standing in her randomly chosen arena. So here she was and there was still no sign of her opponent.

Miselai was a tall woman, standing proud and fair. Her hair had been tied back into a ponytail but she had let long thick strands hang down to frame her face. Her lips were purple, shining in the hidden sunlight. Miselai was dressed in the same garb as she had been on that throne; she had not been given the chance to change. Her dress was brown and soft, open and bound at the side by thin straps. The dress split completely at her waist with two brown lengths of fabric adorned with purple runes on either side of her waist with a larger, thicker brown cloth wrought with flowers hanging straight down. Her fingerless gauntlets and shin guards were made of bark as hard as any metal, while her feet had been left free.

Great purple and black wings inlaid with green thrust out of her back, twitching slightly as the snow slid down their thin membrane. Miselai's face had been cast in a purple glow from the small natural lights that hung on the end of each antennae extending out of hair on her forehead where a small woven crown rested.

Miselai tapped her staff down on the snow, inpatient. The staff was near as tall as she was, with tendrils of bark twisting over a deep purple aura at the top of the staff. The purple aura was faintly shivering around her body, warding off the worst of the cold despite the fact her bare feet were deep in the snow. She couldn't make herself completely ignore the temperature though - who knew how much of her power she would need for the fight ahead. However, she knew she could go all out - any stamina or magic power would be replenished after every battle, according to the fairy messenger.

There was still no sign of whatever man, woman, or beast she was supposed to fight. Miselai gently sketched a rune in the air with her staff. The rune glowed purple for a few seconds before it moulded into the shape of a purple glowing wasp. The wasp split into three wasps around the size of Miselai's head.

"Find him," she whispered, sending her wasps forward. The purple glow disappeared from the wasps, revealing hard armour, sharp stingers, and glowing purple eyes. They shot forward in three different directions, soon getting lost in the snowstorm.

Miselai placed her staff back into the snow and closed her eyes. As clear as day, she could see through all three of her wasps' eyes. One flew close to the ground, darting past small snow dunes and the occasional dark hole. Another got close to the mountains, flying close to craggy stone rocks jutting from near vertical surfaces. The final was the closest to Miselai, ensuring no one was sneaking up on her. The wasp suddenly sent out a signal and Miselai shut off the other two wasps to concentrate on the one that was currently scanning about fifty foot in front of her.

Looking out of her wasps eyes she saw… something… for a brief second. A great hulking beast. Before Miselai could get a better look the signal from the wasp was suddenly lost. Miselai's eyes snapped open and she clutched her staff in front of her with both hands, staring at the snow straight ahead.

There it was - a shadow stepping slowly forward. The blotchy grey shadow slowly merged into a figure; a huge expanse of a back, thick arms and legs, two horns on either side. The figure continued to step forward until its features became much clearer. Then the beast stopped and stood still.

It was a Minotaur, Miselai knew that much, but it was unlike any Minotaur she had ever seen in the stories she had read as a child. His skin was the colour of mulled red berry wine and it seemed near every stretch of his skin was covered in coarse black hair. His back was the hairiest - from what could be seen on the hump that rose above his head. The Minotaur's right arm was bare but for a single gold circlet around his upper arm and bandages wrapped around his hand. His left was heavily armoured with a shoulder plate of black with spikes shooting outwards. He wore black sandals which extended up to below muscled knees, and a skirt of light grey cloth that hung just above the knee.

But the face… the face was the thing with Miselai concentrated on. Facial hair stuck out below his chin and on either side of his face, creating three points. His left eye was white, with a white ivory horn extending directly to the side and upwards. However, the right side of his upper face had been coated in some kind of metal, joined directly to the skin. It was inlaid with gold and had a wrought golden eye resting in a socket.

The Minotaur hadn't moved through all of Miselai's analysis, but now it slowly reared backwards. He opened his mouth and drew in a sharp torrent of breath. Air and snow flitted into his throat but the Minotaur didn't seem to care. After almost ten seconds of breathing in the air he closed his mouth and leaned forward until he was on all fours. His fists sank into the snow as his face bent towards Miselai.

Then he roared.

The roar was like nothing Miselai had ever heard. It was a great torrent of sound, bursting around the mountains. It was louder the First Horn of Okeleil, which summoned the council of the Fairy Queen. It was louder than the Second Horn of Okeleil, which heralded war and drew the forces of the Fairy Queen to the great tree. Somehow, the roar was even louder than Third Horn of Okeleil, which signified the death of the Fairy Queen.

Miselai put both hands on her ears trying to close out the sound but all she succeeded in doing was keeping the ringing of the war cry in her head. The roar only grew louder and louder, a great rumble of a roar, like a titan calling his allies to war.

Then it grew quiet.

For a moment Miselai thought she had gone deaf. There was no sound at all. Whatever snow critters had been singing to each other had quieted and the wind had died down to stop the rustling of Miselai's clothes.

Miselai then heard a low rumble from all around her. It grew louder and louder, though nowhere near as loud as the Minotaur's roar. Miselai quickly closed her eyes and found that only one wasp was left alive. Somehow the one near the mountains had gone. The other one was flying fast, zooming through the snow. It looked backwards for a second and Miselai gasped. Opening her eyes Miselai flapped her wings and allowed herself to fly into the air.

The avalanche of snow smashed downwards into the small valley where Miselai and the Minotaur had been standing. From up here Miselai realized that they had been standing on a glacier, but the blue of the ice was quickly covered by the solid white. The snow crumbled downwards towards the Minotaur, but the beast showed no signs of moving.

Just as Miselai thought the snow was about to crush the Minotaur and the battle would be won before it even begun, it parted and slide past either side of the Minotaur, as if nature itself had been rattled by the war cry. The rumble grew less and less until it was gone completely and the Minotaur looked up.

"You will fear Rogar Mon." The Minotaur said.

"To be entirely fair, I believe I already do, Rogar Mon." The name tasted foreign of her lips, but Miselai feigned a smile. She couldn't lie - that war cry was fear in the form of sound. The whole point, she assumed.

"Come down here, fairy. Rogar Mon would rip your wings from your back."

Miselai gulped and fluttered through the air. "As enticing an offer as that is I would prefer to figure out a game plan. I do so love my wings."

Rogar Mon was certainly best in melee range. The muscles of his arms and his great big fists proved that much. He looked like he could move fast as well, and both metal and ivory horn looked sharp. His whole body screamed 'Danger'! Miselai took a breath and held her staff with both hands, sketching a few soft runes into the air. She decided to finish this as quickly as she could.

She drew almost 100 small runes in the air, quick as the flytraps which threatened her fairy brethren. Each rune slowly merged into the shape of a leaf, and each leaf multiplied one-hundred-fold. Miselai spun her staff into the sky and allowed the leaves to spin around. They gathered speed, gusting through the air until they spun as fast as a tornado. The force of the leaves drew snow up into the torrent until leaves and ice became one. Rogar Mon only stared at the tornado, his teeth pressed together.

Miselai could feel her body shrink by almost a quarter using this much power. Her legs and arms grew shorter and thinner, while her hair came out of its ponytail to hang around her face and engulfing her crown completely. Her chest grew flatter and her hips thinner, causing Miselai to curse lightly to herself. She enjoyed the womanly figure. It gave her subjects a great woman to look at, to love, and to sometimes fear… but sometimes survival made a whole lot more sense than keeping appearances.

She swung her staff downwards and the tornado of leaves carved its way through the snow to approach Rogar Mon. The snow was thrown outwards if it didn't join the tornado itself, revealing the icy blue glacier.

Rogar Mon smashed his fists together as the tornado approached and took one step back. He pulled back his left fist and let it hang in the air behind him. The tornado got closer and closer, until one leaf swiped across Rogar Mon's black nose, drawing blood. Rogar Mon grinned and his hand snapped forward in a flash.

As soon as his fist hit the tornado the wind stopped all of a sudden at the force of the blow. The leaves all dropped to the ground, useless and half covered with snow. Rogar Mon crashed his hands together once more and looked up to Miselai.

"Rogar Mon appreciates the show of strength. Now Rogar Mon would like to tear you limb from limb."

That much of her power, just swatted away? Miselai bit her lower lip with her staff held tightly in both hands. It was now about a head taller than her. With a pause to take her breath, Miselai crafted two more runes. She tucked her staff into a holster of bark on her back between her wings and grabbed the newly created bow and arrows, made from tendrils of bark. She took aim and fired three arrows in quick succession.

Rogar Mon slapped the first two out of the air with scary ease and grabbed the third between finger and thumb. He snapped it with a push of his thumb and let the wood drop to the ground.

Miselai moved through the air quickly with a flutter of her wings and fired four more arrows that shot towards Rogar Mon from four different directions. Rogar Mon just snarled and spun on his hooves with such speed that he almost became a blur. When he stopped, he had two arrows between his fingers on either hand. How could a beast so big be so quick? It seemed that though Rogar Mon was close range, one had to be close range to stand a chance at fighting him.

With that in mind, Miselai summoned two more items with a wave of her staff. This time it was a sword and a shield. The sword was a short-sword, its grip made of tightly woven vines and its blade made of the same hard bark as her armour; the shield was also made of the same bark, and had the image of a tree embroidered in leaves on its surface.

"Finally. Rogar Mon is pleased," said the Minotaur, widening his stance.

Miselai flew forward with a slash aimed at Rogar Mon's face but Rogar Mon blocked it with his armoured arm. Miselai spun in the air and slammed her foot into Rogar Mon's thick neck. The beast seemed surprised and stumbled to the side. "What? Where you not expecting me to be a warrior? I am the queen of the faeries!" Miselai taunted, swinging her sword at his neck. Rogar Mon ducked and the sword deflected off his metal horn. Rogar Mon growled and snapped his hand through the air, connecting with Miselai's shield.

The force of the blow was likely to rip off her arm had she not slid out of shield's straps just in time. The shield itself shattered to near a thousand pieces, the bark standing no chance against Rogar Mon's strength. Miselai tried to ignore it and slashed with her blade. Rogar Mon's hand flew through the air with that intense speed. He grabbed the blade in his hands, ignoring the feel of the blade slicing through his palm. He squeezed and now the sword shattered. Weapon-less, Miselai flew backwards but misjudged her own speed.

Rogar Mon's hand grabbed her foot. Miselai had only a half-second to brace herself before Rogar Mon swung, slamming her hard onto the compacted snow. She gasped at the pain but didn't have time before Rogar Mon swung her through the air again to slam on the ground a second time. He lifted her by the foot, letting her hang down in front of him. His other hand shot forward and slammed into her chest.

Miselai must have blacked out for a moment as she was on the floor, ten feet from the Minotaur. Her chest was burning and there was blood at her lips. Miselai touched the blood and looked at her bloody finger with a grimace. Rogar Mon… his strength was unbelievable. She groaned as she climbed to her feet but there was the Minotaur, on her once more.

His fist connected with her left shoulder and Miselai heard a horrible crack. She couldn't consider what had just broken before Rogar Mon grabbed her left arm and pulled with ease. The pain was so intense that Miselai almost blacked out once more. She watched as her left arm was pulled from her body in a geyser of blood. She couldn't let Rogar Mon do anything else. As the Minotaur through the limp arm away, Miselai took the chance to fly up into the air, her blood dripping crimson on the snow.

She waved her staff in her right hand and a blanket of leaves covered the stump at her left shoulder, sealing it tightly. That was all she could do to treat the injury for now. Miselai closed her eyes to try and recover her strength. She couldn't afford to feel faint; she had to be fast and quick… but how? Rogar Mon was faster and quicker, and stronger too. With her eyes closed, she felt the signal of her wasp. Miselai smiled and opened her eyes. She lifted her staff and swung it in a wide circle and then slammed the end of her staff in the middle of the circle. A great beam of purple shot out to disappear into the snow.

"Rogar Mon despises pretty lights. Come down here."

"Screw that…" Miselai responded, disappointed that her voice was wavering. She had shrunk to half her size now. Her hair was long now, coming down in straight drifts down her back. Her wings had grown smaller as well, almost too small to be seen from the front.

From the snow grew a great shadow, almost ten times the size of Rogar Mon. It was the last wasp and Miselai had caused it to grow with her previous rune. The wasp swung its great stinger at Rogar, ready to skewer the Minotaur.

"I'm sorry…" Miselai muttered, creating a blade to grab out of the air. "I'll remember your sacrifice."

As expected, Rogar Mon caught the stinger of the wasp with both hands. The force caused him to skid through the drifts of snow but that was all. When he came to a stop, Rogar Mon twisted his hands to snap the stinger off.

This was the chance! Miselai shot forward and drew back her sword. About a meter from Rogar Mon the Minotaur sensed something and spun around. The blade struck truly in his stomach going in so far that the guard touched Rogar Mon's skin.

Rogar Mon gnashed his teeth together as a small dribble of blood fell down through his beard. Just as Miselai thought that he looked like he was about to collapse, Rogar Mon's hand shot out to grab around her neck. His fingers also went over her shoulders now that she was half the size. His other arm latched around her right leg. Miselai's eyes widened. "No! Don't you da-"

Miselai screamed as loud as she ever had as Rogar Mon tore her right leg from her body. The blood came out in a torrent, the heat of it causing steam as it landed on the snow. Without being able to hold her staff she couldn't even put a layer of leaves on the wound.

But both Rogar Mon and Miselai forgot about the wasp. It slammed head first into

Rogar Mon's back so hard that even Rogar Mon found himself in the air. His grip loosened as he fell and Miselai reared backwards and flapped into the air. She quickly summoned the covering over the stub where her right leg used to be. It had torn almost straight from the hip, the stub bloody and torn right below her groin.

Miselai panted, feeling stars in her head. She watched as Rogar Mon landed on the ice hard enough to cause cracks but he got to his hooves quick enough. Miselai could only watch as Rogar Mon charged, horns pointed at the wasp. He smashed into it with so much force he tore the wasp asunder and the wasp exploded into purple runes that glittered in the air. Rogar turned and glared up at Miselai. Miselai steeled herself. The small break had been enough to come up with a plan… but she had never tried something like this before. But the best way to fight Rogar Mon was to fool him or distract him. Miselai took a breath, feeling queasy at the lost weight of her body.

She shot forward as fast as she could towards Rogar Mon. Rogar Mon prepared his fist but Miselai changed her angle and slammed her right shoulder as hard as she could into the snow. The force of her blow caused a great plume of snow to rise into the air, just enough to cover her body. She quickly waved her staff to create a complicated rune and stepped into the rune herself. Miselai could feel the effects and realized that it had worked. She had shrunk, almost to the size of the humans rats. To her side stood a copy of herself, in her half-size form.

Miselai's copy shot forward out of the snow plume and over Rogar Mon's head. She made a U-turn in the air and shot toward Rogar Mon again. Rogar Mon turned to face her, his back to Miselai. Rogar Mon's arm flashed forward and he had Miselai's copy around neck.

"Rogar Mon was pleased with this fight," he breathed heavily, before slamming his fist through the chest of Miselai's copy. Where Rogar Mon expected blood, instead he got a face full of leaves. He sputtered, surprised. "Hrm?"

"Hey!" Miselai's voice was squeaky and quiet, but Rogar Mon still heard. He turned on his feet, still blinking away his confusion. Miselai had hosted the end of her staff on her back to point up at Rogar Mon. She had only one leaf of power left... but hopefully, that was all she needed. The rune was already drawn, shining purple in the snow. Rogar Mon growled in annoyance and his fist shot forward. At the same time Miselai stepped forward so the purple end of her staff connected with the rune.

The rune quickly turned into a leaf and shot outwards at an intense speed. Rogar Mon's fist reached it but Miselai had channelled every last drop of her power to make the last leaf of her arsenal as sharp as she possibly could. It tore through his knuckles and sliced through bone and came out the other side of his fist. Rogar Mon snarled at the pain in his hand but the leaf rocketed straight through his good left eye.

Rogar Mon's hand dropped to his waist as blood dripped from his eye down his cheek. He stepped forward, face twisted in anger. It didn't work!? Miselai was sprawled on the ground, her staff next to her. She couldn't move, couldn't do anything. Rogar Mon lifted his arm…

...and all of a sudden his body teetered and fell to the left. It slammed into the snow heavily and stayed still, slowly getting covered by a layer of snow.

Miselai held her breath but it was true… she had done it! It had cost her an arm and a leg, but she had proved that the Queen of the Faeries would fight on until the very end. She closed her eyes, allowing the pain to wash over her.


	8. The Lord's Lady vs The Abomination

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**\- Chapter Eight -**

**\- The Lord's Lady vs The Abomination -**

**\- Bereallia -**

Fleern was a strange creature; half man, half crustacean. His upper torso was that of an average man, muscled and with a blue tinge. Instead of hands, his left was a large crab claw while his right was a shell formed in the shape of a curved spear, the shaft extending a couple of feet from the elbow. His crustaceous lower half of hard shell was brown in colour and jagged in various places across its surface; his six legs, jointed in two places along their lengths, all ended in thick points. Covering the area where his waist joined the two species, Fleern wore a wide band of purple armour, with waves etched into its length. A similar piece covered his upper chest, leaving his abdomen bare, but had been etched with rotating swirls instead. Both elbows of his arms were protected by this armour as well. His face was covered with a purple helmet completely, a narrow slit from ear to ear allowing him to see clearly. A red gem sat in the centre of his forehead, while his slimy white hair hung free from a gap at the helmets rear.

In normal circumstances, Fleern was proud of his body, despite how surface dwellers referred to him as a monster to be slain. However, in his present location, he was starting to get angry at himself. The ice below him, under a tenuous blanket of snow, was slippery and his pointed legs of hard shell were having a hard time gripping it. For the fourth time in a short period he lost his footing and ended up slamming the underside of his crustacean body into the snow. With a snarl from under his helmet he flexed one leg and stabbed down quickly in anger, giving a satisfying crack as it impacted. It took Fleern a second to realise that it had not slipped; instead, it had pierced a couple of inches into the ice.

He tried it with a second leg with the same result, and then quickly followed with the other four, standing up for the first time without falling immediately back down. He was glad his opponent was not in sight, it would have been embarrassing if they had seen him so helpless. There was a reason he preferred the sea to ice, and he tended to say away from the latter; not that he had had a choice in the matter after his refusal to enter a tournament of fighters had been met with a bright light and then waking up in this snowy hell.

Ensuring to add force to his normal walk, to keep his grip on the ice, Fleern moved forward slowly and looked around. His vision was impaired by the thick snow that fell in lazy swirls around him, covering the floor, but he could still make out the mountains that surrounded him. His sensitive ears could pick out the moving of water and going by the minus temperature, Fleern guessed he was on some sort of glacier or the like.

He stepped forward slowly, head turning left and right, trying to catch sight of his opponent; but they were nowhere to be seen. Then out of nowhere, a loud wail reached his ears.

"I hate the cold!" It screamed, its tone and pitch identifying it as a woman.

For a second, Fleern was worried about an avalanche. He had heard such things were caused by loud sounds and the woman he had just heard had been screaming at the top of her lungs. However, nothing happened, so instead he focused on trying to see where the woman was. The scream had bounced around the mountainous region and so locating it by sound alone was pretty much impossible even for Fleern's ears. Suddenly, a mound of snow a couple of feet in front of him exploded outwards and revealed a rather underdressed woman.

Senestra Ayaren wore all black leather with the exception of the dark green cloak she had fastened around her neck, resting on her shoulders. She had thigh high heeled boots decorated with a horned skull at the knee and small spikes running up the front. A thick belt clinched around her waist and was buckled with another, hornless, skull above a knee length loincloth. A corset that only just covered her breasts had small square buckles across her stomach and sides while small frills lined the uppermost edge. Thick bracers around her forearms were decorated with small golden studs in consecutive rings. Senestra had long brown hair, down to her waist, decorated with red roses and dark red lipstick that matched her red eyes.

"_He_told me it was going to be exciting! _He_told me to do it for him! But _he_! Didn't mention! There was going to be snow!" Senestra howled, stamping around in the shin high snow beneath her and flapping her arms around to try and bat away the falling flakes.

Suddenly, she stopped and her eyes looked to the side at Fleern. Her head followed sharply, before it tipped to the side as if she were a hound who had seen a new plaything. "You're a strange one." She said, lowering her hands to her side and turning slowly to face him. "I could nearly excuse _him_for sending me here." Senestra raised her hand and a red glow encompassed it before a spiked ring of black metal appeared floating above it; a smaller one hovering at its centre. "So the sooner I defeat you, the quicker I can leave this forsaken place."

Fleern narrowed his eyes, invisible in the shadow of his mask. "It seems so. Don't think I'll be easy though." His voice was smooth and handsome while at the same time, it clicked as though he had a set of mandibles where his mouth should be.

Senestra smiled and twisted her hand to grasp the floating spiked ring. Fleern lowered his spear-arm slowly in preparation for the attack, but was taken aback when the woman stabbed the weapon into her arm and dragged it down its length. Crimson blood spattered the ground in arcs while streams and droplets leaked from the large wound itself. Senestra revelled in Fleern's confusion and added to it by running her tongue along her sharpened teeth before running it from wrist to elbow; taking a lot of blood into her mouth.

"My blood is like bile in my mouth…I wonder what yours will be like." She muttered as she flicked her hand forward and her spiked weapon shot forward towards Fleern.

The half-man, half-crustacean didn't even try to dodge the attack as he raised his spear-hand and batted the weapon to the side. As he did so, he felt a sharp sting at his waist and looked down to see a strange creature jabbing a trident into him. The creature was as red as Serena's blood, and reflected the white of the snow around it. It was only about as big as his head and looked like a pudgy baby sporting leathery wings, the trident in its hand. Even as Fleern looked at it, two more burst from the snow beneath him and attacked his fleshy stomach.

With a growl, he swept his claw hand along them and flicked them to the floor. As he did so, two more jumped from the snow but this time he scuttled back quickly and pierced them both through the chest with a quick double strike of his spear-hand. Instantly upon piercing their flesh, they burst into a shower of blood, and Fleern's gaze flicked back up to Senestra.

She was giggling softly and holding her wounded arm aloft where more of the creatures would grow from bubbles and leap into the snow, digging beneath it to attack Fleern from below. When she saw Fleern watching her, she laughed louder and two slightly bigger blood creatures appeared out of her arm and dropped to her feet. Instead of sweeping forward like the others, these two remained stationary until Senestra stepped up onto them, when they raised her until she was about on Fleern's eye level.

"These are my Peekwees." She explained, holding up her right hand with the spinning spiked ring and growing more creatures from her wounded left. "Born from my blood, they seek out new flesh for me to consume. Which, in this case, is just you, crabby." She flashed her fangs and leapt forward. As she was in the air, she created more large Peekwees and used them to stay above the snow until she was right in front of Fleern.

Fleern attempted to side-scuttle but Senestra quickly followed with another well placed Peekwee. She ducked under his spear swipe and, using another Peekwee as a foothold, hit him with a left jab in his armoured chest. Fleern couldn't help but cry out as it felt like someone had jabbed him with a steel bar into bare flesh. His purple shell armour cracked and as Senestra pulled her fist away, she left an imprint of it in the material. As Fleern took a second to recover from the surprise strength of the blow, Senestra bounced up on another Peekwee and aimed an axe-kick at his left shoulder.

It struck with the weight of a forging anvil and more cracks spread across his armour. However, Fleern had somewhat recovered and while her leg was extended, he clamped it tight in his claw-arm. Senestra clenched her teeth but then smiled widely as blood started dripping freely. Fleern realised too late what she had done when a large Peekwee forced his claw apart and Senestra jumped backwards to escape.

"Don't forget that my babies don't fight for me." She smiled, bouncing off more Peekwees until she was stood a couple of feet above Fleern.

Fleern held his spear-arm low and swung in a wide arc to where Senestra was stood, but she laughed as he was nowhere near her. Then, with a scraping sound, Fleern's spear extended to about 7 feet long and the blunt side caught Senestra in the cheek. She cried out and was flung from her Peekwee perch towards the snow below her. A couple of small ones tried to catch her, but she was too heavy and she hit the snow with a weighty thud.

Now that she was off her creatures, Fleern took advantage and rushed forward, aiming to pierce her chest with one of his legs. Senestra was flexible though as she bent at the waist to avoid the blow and then wrapped her legs around the Fleern's shelled equivalent. She opened her mouth wide, flashing deadly fangs, and bit down hard. With a cry of pain she pulled her mouth away quickly as Fleern couldn't help but chuckle.

"It's a little bit harder than my armour." He said as he jabbed at her head with his spear-hand.

Again, she bent and avoided the blow, this time with her long neck; although it pierced her hair to the snow. With her legs wrapped around Fleern's, Senestra opened a free hand and her spiked ring appeared in it. She pushed it towards Fleern's leg, but instead of hitting it, a small opening appeared and she latched it to him. Fleern noticed and pulled away, catching Senestra with his spear again and throwing her backwards.

The ring was still around his leg, but Fleern couldn't feel anything different. He looked up to where Senestra was getting to her feet and saw her raise her hand in a claw shape. With a laugh she clenched quickly and Fleern felt a searing pain; looking down to see that Senestra's weapon had severed his leg. He screamed and used his remaining five legs to quickly step backwards as Senestra summoned the spiked ring back to her hand.

Fleern retracted his spear-hand, and watched carefully as Senestra stepped forward and picked up the severed limb. Light blue blood dripped from it and she lifted up until it was falling into her open mouth. She held it there for a few seconds before throwing the limb away and smiling across at him.

"Delicious… if a tad salty." She said. Two larger Peekwees suddenly burst from the snow beneath her and launched her like a catapult towards Fleern.

He reacted quickly and lashed out, extending his spear-hand in the process. Senestra had gotten used to his speed already, however, and caught the spear in her free hand as the other moved the spiked ring in its direction. Realising what she was trying to do, Fleern retracted his spear and caught Senestra in the gut with the outside of his claw, sending her crashing into the snow again. Senestra rolled a few times before jumping into the air and landing on a couple of Peekwees again. Red blood flecked her lips.

However, she smiled with a downwards glance and Fleern looked down in horror as he saw that she had managed to get her spiked ring around another leg. Before he could pull it free, it activated with its red magic and Fleern roared out, stumbling away on his remaining four legs.

Senestra reached up with her left hand and clawed four long scratches into her other arm. From the stream of blood the largest Peekwee yet appeared and rushed towards Fleern. He clashed his spear against its trident as Senestra grabbed his second leg and drained it dry.

"More!" She screamed and flung her arms forward, the two middle fingers folded in to the palm while the others pointed at Fleern.

From the wounds on her two arms, thousands of tiny Peekwees flew forth and attacked Fleern like a swarm of bees. He managed to keep the larger one at bay, but every time he defended, a clump of tiny ones attacked his flesh. The small pinpricks were mostly painless but within a minute or two, his light blue blood was flowing from all the tiny holes.

In the red mist of tiny Peekwees, Fleern had lost sight of Senestra. So he was surprised when she appeared at his back and dug her fangs into his neck. He felt her power as she sucked his blood, and tried to knock her away with his claw. However, she had anticipated the attack and stopped his claw dead with her strong grip. Fleern guessed what was coming next but couldn't pull his arm free as she latched her ring around it. As with his legs, Fleern lost an arm to the blood thirsty creature.

As he screamed, she spun on his back and drove an elbow into the side of his head. The mask covering his face cracked and then shattered revealing what was below. Fleern had the eyes of a man, wide and shocked with the pain, but his mouth was merely a gaping hole filled with thousands of small sharp teeth. With a flick of her wrist, Senestra sent a river of Peekwees forward and they started flooding into Fleern's gaping mouth.

Senestra started laughing but stopped suddenly when her Peekwees started fleeing Fleern's mouth like a waterfall. Which is apparently what followed as a torrent of water burst from Fleern's mouth and pushed the Peekwees away. Senestra was stunned and didn't see the butt of Fleern's spear-hand as it caught her in the gut and knocked her back into the snow.

Where his water had touched, steam rose and Senestra realised that it was boiling water, melting away her blood-made creatures. She snarled and jumped away, helped by some more platforms in the shape of Peekwees, as Fleern aimed his spurt of water in her direction. For a second, Senestra was worried but as Fleern lunged forward with an extended spear-hand, she realised that she wasn't really in trouble; he was starting to panic.

She nimbly ducked under the spear and caught it in a two handed grip before wrenching in opposite directions and tearing the limb in two. Fleern seemed unaffected, in the strange rage he was in, as he followed up the attack by rearing up on his hind legs and aimed his two foremost limbs at Senestra's location. She stepped around the attacks, her quick reflexes easily out-matching Fleern's speed, and when she was close enough, she delivered a heavy punch to the hard shell of Fleern's underside.

He was flung backwards and rolled in the snow a few times before coming to a stop with his shelled legs pointing into the air, his human upper body bent awkwardly. Senestra used the opportunity to latch her spiked ring around another leg and cut it free with her magic. Fleern screamed again and managed to scramble upright quickly. However, with only three legs remaining, his balance was completely off and he tipped over to crash into the snow like a beached ship.

Senestra lunged forward to her weakened prey and kicked him once in the forehead before latching her spiked ring around his spear arm. With a quick pull, she lopped it free and drunk directly from the flow of blood it sprayed across the snow. Her guttural laugh was loud and Fleern's consciousness returned as he looked down at her. It was clear to him he had lost the fight, but she continued to laugh as she took the rest of his legs until he was nothing but a legless shell with an armless human attached to the top.

"Monster." He managed to mutter as blue blood leaked from his oval mouth.

Senestra froze where she was and looked at him, his severed leg dripping blood onto her face. "Why, of course I am. It's the only reason _he's_interested in me." She smiled as she dropped his leg and held her hand aloft to summon her spiked ring for a final time.

However, as she gathered her blood-red energy, a beam of light shot down from the sky and engulfed her.

"No!" She screamed, trying to break through the light only to be shocked away from the edge. "No! I'm not finished! The creature still lives! Give me my blood!" Her screams faded away as Fleern watched the light take the woman who had bested him away.

He hung his head, wondering what would happen now, when a cloaked figure appeared before him. As Fleern opened his mouth to ask what was going to happen, the figure appeared behind him and in one smooth motion, broke his neck. Then with a flutter of fabric, the figure disappeared.


	9. The Rat-Man vs The Jakara Lord

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**\- Chapter Nine -**

**\- The Rat-Man vs The Jakara Lord -**

**\- The Warlock's Folly -**

Akrakk's hand closed around empty air. He frowned, having expected to find a crushed skull between his clawed fingers. The man had had the gall to presume to ask Akrakk a question without leave. Akrakk had decided that he wanted to send a lesson to all his court but now he found himself standing at the top floor of a heavily ruined tower.

The tower floor was thirty meters in diameter with a light pale yellow floor of birch wood and walls of glistening stone. Books had been thrown to the ground, a desk lay on the floor in splinters, and a statue leaned heavily to the side in the corner, half shadowed by a piece of broken wall rising up to the dark blue sky of near-dusk. Akrakk turned his gaze behind him and glared out to the broken world ahead. The land had been split into uneven chunks, a spider-web of cracks criss-crossing across the landscape. Faint blue light shone in the cracks, and each chunk seemed to have a peculiar quality to them. One floated a few inches above the ground, another caught fire in spots sporadically, and yet another seemed to vibrate and pulse.

Akrakk crossed his arms and his frown deepened. There was a voice in his head, light and musical; a nuisance. It seems to tell him that he had to fight an opponent of some fashion. To kill or to incapacitate? But where was this opponent and why should he obey any rules given to him anyway?

Akrakk was a Jakaran, a tall reptilian humanoid. He rose a head higher that most humans, with a thick scaly body. His tail was long and thick and his claws sharp and dangerous. Akrakk's snout stuck out from his head, with beady blue eyes and a number of small, piercing teeth. A great collar of blue fur had been wrapped around his shoulders, trailing down to the middle of his back as a cloak. Curled bones stuck out from his shoulders, pointing every which-way, taken from many of Akrakk's foes. He had painted war-paint across his stomach, thighs, and face with white ash from the snow volcanoes of his homeland.

As he peered over the edge of the tower, he saw that he was about five floors above the ground. Would the one he would need to crush be down there? Akrakk heard a faint scuffle behind him. He spun around with ferocious speed, his fist soaring through the air.

It connected with another fist, lined with fur with small claws as opposed to Akrakk's thick scaly fist. Neither fist budged at the point of contact and Akrakk stared into the red eyes of a rat man.

Kai Jaidev wasn't surprised that his sneak attack hadn't worked. In fact, he would have been disappointed if it was that easy. He stood a head shorter than Akrakk, but his arms were thicker, threaded with sinewy muscle. Kai wore a patchwork mish-mash of purple fabric, leaving his arms and feet bare. A hood rested on his head, leaning just above his eyes. His gloves, which were fingerless, thick, and made of leather were scuffed and scratched. Even Kai's appearance seemed worn and old. Small tufts of hair were missing all over his body, with small scars dotted around his hide. Two thick scars ran over both eyes, and one of his short spiked teeth were missing and another chipped.

He could sense the strength behind Akrakk's fist, bulging behind those crimson scales of his. "I should have expected the Lord of Jakara to want to fight."

"You know of me, rat man?"

"It is my business to know."

Akrakk's eyes narrowed. His shoulder twitched and Kai threw his fist forward to collide with Akrakk's blow. Once more their fists stayed still at the point of contact. "I would like to know the name of my opponent."

"Some call me Rat-Man, some the Statue of the Night, some the Whisperer, though another holds that particular title." Kai's eyes glinted. "But you may call me Kai Jaidev."

"Are you a warrior?"

"Sometimes." Kai jammed his knee up towards Akrakk's stomach, but Akrakk slammed his own knee into Kai's. The knees didn't move, but Kai felt that blow more. So Akrakk's legs were stronger than his own. Their fists were still pressed together, unmoving. "They call you Thousand Fangs. I count only thirty."

"My Fangs are my people," Akrakk growled in reply.

"So you command only a thousand people?"

"I command a thousand warriors."

"Funny." Kai grinned. "I command ten-thousand." This time, Akrakk whipped his scaled tail towards Kai's face. Kai responded in kind, his own tail snapping in front of his face to deflect the blow. Both men jumped backwards, each standing at either side of the tower floor.

"Ten-thousand? Do you hide behind such forces?"

"Do I seem hidden to you? Perhaps you should open your eyes." Kai Jaidev pushed off the floor and charged. Akrakk took the cue and sprinted forward himself. He swung, but Kai ducked under the heavy blow and slammed a fist into Akrakk's side. Akrakk didn't seem to notice and drove his elbow down on Kai's back. Kai spun around behind Akrakk and stomped on his tail. Akrakk only flicked the tail, sending Kai into the air. He was surprisingly light, for a beast his size. Kai landed deftly on his feet and sent his tail swinging at Akrakk's feet. Akrakk jumped up and clasped his hands together, bringing them down to club Kai on the head.

Kai darted backwards, allowing Akrakk to hit open air. He drove his foot hard into Akrakk's stomach. This time Akrakk felt it and stumbled backwards only a centimetre, but even that was telling. Kai continued the attack in a fury, slamming his fists and feet at Akrakk. Akrakk barely had time to bring his arms and knees up to defend the attack, slowly moving backwards. Occasionally Kai's tail snapped at Akrakk's face, but Akrakk's own defended him.

Akrakk's foot slipped into open air and he swayed. He turned back, surprised to find that he was at the edge of the tower already. He turned back to Kai but found that he was ten steps away from him. Kai's eyes glinted and he sprinted forward and jumped into the air, thrusting both feet out in front of him. They connected, hitting Akrakk's chest. The lord was flung back into open air. He twisted in the air and put his arms in front of his face.

The impact Akrakk made when he hit the ground was heavy, causing a small crater in a shard of ground. The shard of ground he had landed on was cracking on touch. As he stood, Akrakk's foot fell further into the ground. He jumped backwards onto another shard; this one indented further down that the others.

As soon as his foot fell on it, he felt weight upon his shoulders. Akrakk groaned and fought against the weight, pushing himself upwards. He closed his eyes and confirmed what he had suspected. Magic was flowing through this land. Akrakk opened his eyes to find Kai Jaidev standing at the edge of the tower, high above.

"Let me show you some of my forces, Thousand Fangs!" Kai called down and spread his arms out wide. For a moment, nothing happened. Then his skin seemed to wriggle. Something seemed to be moving under his fur.

Then a large rat burst from his hands, as large as Akrakk's fist. Its eyes gleamed red as it landed on the floor. Another rat burst from the other hand, landing with his brother. Then another rat from each hand, more from Kai's legs, one from his neck. They pushed their way out of his skin, and flowing at his feet. Kai was a fountain of rats as they scurried down his body to join their brothers and sisters on the tower floor. Finally the last one dropped to the ground and Kai pointed at Akrakk. "Let's start with one thousand, and you can judge if they are worthy of your own. Brothers, sisters… attack!"

In one heavy waterfall, the rats flowed down the edge of the building, running down the stone. Akrakk squeezed his hands closed and braced his legs, getting ready for a fight. The first rat touched the shard of ground that flamed sporadically and immediately burst into fire with a scream. Two others followed before the rest had the sense to avoid the shard of ground. A dozen froze solid on a shard, and another dozen expanded into squeaking balls of fur. The rest scurried around the shards, trying to avoid whatever magic was at work.

From the one thousand Kai Jaidev had sent to attack, only one hundred made it to Akrakk's piece of ground. He stomped on the first one to pass the magic line, feeling the bones crunch under his foot. One jumped surprisingly high but Akrakk sent his tail to smack the rat out of the way. The rest had surrounded Akrakk and started nipping at his feet. He spun his leg and knocked a bunch out of the way. They landed on a shard of ground and were flung up into the sky. They squeaked as they flipped through the air, before landing in bloody spots on the ground. Akrakk made short work of the rest of the rats and looked up to Kai Jaidev. Only the rat-man wasn't where he was standing before.

Akrakk felt a sharp pain in his side and looked down to find Kai's clawed hands had impaled his side. Kai squeezed and Akrakk screamed, falling to one knee. "Kidneys hurt when crushed, don't they?"

Akrakk felt sweat bead on his brow, but he spun around with his fist. Akrakk ducked the blow and danced backwards, seemingly unaffected by the heavy weight this shard of ground beheld. Blood spat out of Akrakk's wound and he held his side, panting.

"Do you know of this place, Thousand Fangs?"

Akrakk didn't respond, trying to push away the pain. He was content to stay still, ready to strike at this rat-man.

"They call it the Warlock's Folly. Legends tell that the warlock in question wanted to open a gate to meet the Gods. Apparently the spell backfired and the Gods took out their rage on the mortal who dared to try and meet them. I heard tales that you could find a bit of every kind of magic on these lands." Kai looked around, grinning like a stupid child. "I've always wanted to come here, and what do you know? Here I am. But do you know what this means?"

"I don't… care…" Akrakk breathed, standing up.

"Well you should." Kai tutted. "Information is a wonder, Akrakk. Information is the key to opening all the world's secrets. And do you know what information I have learned? That our captors are using real-life places as their arenas. Isn't that interesting?"

"I don't care!" Akrakk repeated and leaped forward, ready to tear Kai's head from his shoulders. The heavy gravity made Akrakk sluggish and Kai just danced to the side once more. He sent a quick punch to Akrakk's wound, causing the lord of Jakara to fall to his knees in pain once more. To fall to his knees in front of another… Akrakk closed his eyes, feeling shame in the pit of his stomach.

The shame quickly turned to anger. Anger for feeling the shame. Akrakk stood, ignoring the weight of his shoulders. He lunged at Kai with both hands but once again Kai dodged. He pushed on Akrakk's back, pushing him into another chunk of land. As soon as Akrakk hit it, he felt all weight disappear - completely. His feet rose off the ground as he slid into the air.

"Heh…" Kai's eyes gleamed as he watched Akrakk flail helplessly in the air. "I've never seen a lord dance so wonderfully."

Akrakk roared in fury. This mocking little rat-man…! "If not for this magic-"

"I'm sure you would rip me to and fro and feast on my bones." Kai shrugged. "Even if that were true, Thousand Fangs, it doesn't matter. I had a nice little chat with the man who came to visit me. I was intrigued when he walked into my den without any worry. He told me of these battles and that I would have to fight. He also told me, when I inquired as to where we would fight, that it would be in arena's devised to test a warrior. You see, Akrakk, being a warrior isn't just muscles and teeth. I'm sure you and your one thousand Fangs have slaughtered thousands of men and women. But that was in your home, in your mountains, where you knew how to set traps and how to use it to your advantage. But being a warrior means adjusting to the circumstances. You made the mistake to venture further into this magical territory. The sensible thing would have been to scramble back to the tower."

"Don't… presume to teach me!" Akrakk's tail pushed out and wrapped around Kai Jaidev's arm. He used Kai as an anchor to pull himself from the weightlessness and reared back his hand. He smashed it into Kai's chest to tear out his heart.

Instead of blood, rats burst outwards from Kai's chest. They scurried around the empty hole and started to move up Akrakk's arm. He jumped backwards and grimaced. Even he was horrified to see one rat torn apart by the others so its skin could be used to patch the hole Akrakk had made. Kai chuckled as the rats fixed the hole and hide from sight. "You are not a smart man, are you?"

"I am the Lord of the Jakara!" Akrakk threw his hand forward to smash into Kai's face. Kai didn't even attempt to move and let the fist blow through the side of his face. Akrakk thrust his other fist into Kai's stomach, reopening the hole. He continued the flurry of blows until rats scurried this way and that on the floor. Akrakk backed away, panting. Then his eyes widened. He had seen men and women die, seen their innards, seen many, many horrors. But this… he felt the pit in his stomach growing heavier.

The rats attacked other rats, ripping them apart to harvest organs, bones and muscles. They started with the feet, putting multiple small claws together to make the bigger ones on the end of Kai's toes. The endless rats ripped more apart, using the muscle to build up Kai's legs. They moved up, stitching bone together first, then the muscle, then the skin. When they reached organs they pulled apart smaller organs to make bigger ones in a patchwork of monstrosity. Finally Kai Jaidev stood before Akrakk, as naked as the rats he controlled, with a great grin on his face.

Akrakk stumbled backwards, shocked to the core. "What… What are you?"

"A being like you. I expect that's where our similarities end."

Akrakk fell to his rear and just stared at the rat-man. This wasn't right… Kai Jaidev wasn't in the nature of the world, whatever he was shouldn't exist. He was a warrior, a fearless leader… now he felt like one of his victims, cowering beneath a higher power. Akrakk wanted to fight, wanted to destroy him, but… but… how? Akrakk didn't move as the rats sped to his feet. He didn't even move when they started to bite his skin, tearing through the tough scales. Kai Jaidev was neither man nor beast… not even a monster. Akrakk didn't know what he was and couldn't figure it out even as the rats ran across his chest and his face. One pushed between his mouth and pushed its way down his throat. Another followed, and another. Akrakk felt them tearing at his stomach and throat and fell backwards, in his dying thoughts wondering what Kai Jaidev was.

Kai watched with folded arms as his rats devoured Akrakk. After minutes of gnawing and gnashing they finally dispersed, leaving no trace of the Lord of Jakara. Kai looked up as a light cast down on his head, and grinned as the light filled all his senses.


	10. The Twice Dead vs The Solar Avatar

**.**

**\- Chapter Ten -**

**\- The Twice Dead vs The Solar Avatar -**

**\- The Dark -**

Mnemosia stood still, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness around her. She got the feeling that if she had not been present, it would have been darker than night and impossible to see. Luckily for her, her very nature meant she had a couple sources of light. One of them was the longsword she held loosely in her right hand; the hilt, handle, and guard were made of a hard, gold coloured metal, with leather bands wrapped around the handle to provide a solid grip. Two short prongs rose from the top of the guard and held the silver blade that shone with a faint blue light. The second light source was that of a flat disc that hovered above her head, about a foot in diameter. The halo shone with the same blue light as her sword, but brighter as it seemed to be made of the light completely. Mnemosia also had a third source of light ready to use if necessary, but for now kept it off.

As an added bonus, her attire reflected the light she held in various directions and gave Mnemosia an aura of blue-white light. She was clad in armour from toe-to-shoulder; all of it rimmed with gold with either a silver or turquoise centre. The plated armour covered her boots and thighs, leaving gaps at the joints to allow movement. It covered her belly and chest, although it left an ample view of her full breasts and slender neck. It covered her upper arms and shoulders, although her left pauldron forgo its golden edge and was simply a dark grey metal with four spikes rising from it. The armour covered her forearm and hand on her right hand, the one grasping her sword, while only a leather glove covered her left hand, allowing her to slip it through the fastenings of the golden shield she held. Around her waist was a belt of feathers fastened with a gold disc etched with a heron, while it also secured a rich red loincloth to hang to her knees.

Her long, near-blue hair was pulled back in a high ponytail and she wore a half-helmet that covered her upper face and cheeks while stopping at where she had tied her hair up. Mnemosia's whole attire was magnificent, but perhaps the most magnificent of all was the pair of large wings that sprouted from her shoulder blades. They were currently folded in tight, for easy movement on the ground, but had soft silver feathers that barely glittered in her light.

Mnemosia walked forward slowly, taking in the large stone bricks that created the floor beneath her as well as the slight echoing that told her whatever room she was in, it was pretty large. A skeletal arm came into view on the floor and Mnemosia stopped to look down as she stepped forward to reveal the full skeleton of what appeared to be an ex-human. She crouched down and used her sword as a makeshift torch to see that whoever it had been, their death had most likely been caused by the large iron spike that was driven through its skull. The light of her sword touched another body and Mnemosia continued forward to discover more bodies.

It didn't take her long to realise that the room she was in was filled with bodies, and not just of humans. As Mnemosia slowly walked around the room, she counted nearly 50 different species, including that of what had clearly been a giant, going by the size of its foot; which was the only part Mnemosia could reach. They sported different armour and weapons, different broken bones, but all had clearly been dead for a number of years; perhaps hundreds. One particular skeleton caught her attention more than the others as it seemed to be the freshest one around.

In fact, it was so fresh, Mnemosia decided she couldn't really classify it as a skeleton. It had motley grey skin, falling off the bone like ripe-cooked meat, with strange brown pustules that leaked a near-luminescent green ooze. It sported armour constructed of dull grey bones, skulls forming a kilt-like garment with another at its chest, and had shoulder length brown hair, patchy in places, hanging from its head. A large bearded axe lay on the floor near it, the haft forming a small man tied at the arms and legs. Dark brown patches stained the metal and Mnemosia didn't have to guess what it was.

What fascinated Mnemosia the most were its wounds. It had numerous arrows piercing its legs and left shoulder, a thin black blade through its heart, and a large iron rod through its left eye, with a second rod through its forehead. It was leant on its side as if it had stopped and fallen, finally giving in to the numerous wounds it had received.

Mnemosia wondered whether it was a previous participant in the games, or perhaps it was merely a decoration for this particular arena. Was it an example of what her opponent could do? In fact… She stood up slowly, and turned on her heel, hoping to catch sight of the person she was due to face in combat. As she did, something snagged her trailing foot and without thinking, she swiped her blade down and severed whatever had grabbed her.

When she looked to see what it was, she found she had caught the freshest corpse as she had turned, and nearly laughed at her nerves; was the dark getting to her? However, as she watched, the grey flesh she thought dead started to wiggle and move before it joined the severed arm back on as if she had done nothing at all. She stepped back a few strides and watched in the dim light she emitted as the corpse got to its knees. It reached across to grasp its axe and then stood up to its feet, the axe blade dragging along the floor.

It opened its one good eye, to reveal it was as green as its blood, and it unhinged its jaw to scream. It was unlike anything Mnemosia had heard before, worse than nails on a chalkboard, but she gritted her teeth to bear it as the sound shut off as suddenly as it had begun.

"Ochar…" the creature groaned, in a good imitation to what Mnemosia imagined a zombie to sound like. "Ochar kill."

Then it hit her, this creature, Ochar, was an undead. Which means it was her opponent, which made her scowl; the undead were notoriously hard to kill. As she pondered, Ochar shuffled forward and with surprising speed, swung its axe at her. However, she was a trained warrior and simply batted the blow away with her shield. Ochar immediately followed up with another swing, but Mnemosia batted it away a second time.

"You'll have to do better than that, undead monster." Mnemosia said. "I've fought much scarier things than you."

It was at this point that Ochar decided to forgo attacking and stepped back into the darkness. Immediately, Mnemosia was on high alert. She was still the only source of light in the area, and Ochar had left her sphere of influence. She knew what its plan was, even if she didn't think an undead was clever enough for plans. Her left arm rose slightly, readying her shield to defend, while she lowered her sword arm and prepared to counter attack.

Ochar appeared out of the darkness to her right and aimed a quick overhead strike at her. Mnemosia spun quickly to deflect the blow with her shield, knocking the creature off balance, and stepped in to sever its left arm. The blow hit successfully and Mnemosia heard its arm hit the floor with a wet slap as she stepped past it, turned on her heel, and raised her shield ready to go.

Ochar looked at her and then at its arm and as Mnemosia had seen before, the grey flesh moved in a strange pattern before it picked its arm up and reattached it. She scowled and stepped forward to attack again. However, Ochar was clearly waking up as it stopped her attack with its axe. Mnemosia didn't hesitate as she stepped in with her shield and punched it in the middle of its face with its edge. Ochar stumbled backwards with Mnemosia stepping in after it.

"Let's see how you do with no limbs!" She muttered as she disarmed Ochar by slicing through its weapon-wielding wrist. Then, in quick succession, she used her sword to slice through both its arms at the shoulder, then both its legs at the hip, and finally she severed its head and let it fall on the pile of body parts she had created.

Ochar's eyes swivelled in its head, as if it were trying to see what had happened to its body, before they locked onto Mnemosia. Then the grey flesh started shaking and, quicker than before, it knitted together until Ochar was stood in front of Mnemosia again, its axe held loosely in its hand.

"I hate the undead." Mnemosia said as she raised her shield and sword.

"Ochar not undead; Ochar twice-dead!" Ochar stepped forward quickly and let loose a surprisingly quick flurry of heavy axe blows.

Using both shield and sword, Mnemosia deflected both blows but did not respond with an attack of her own. Instead, she let it finish and then quickly stepped back and unfurled her wings. They had looked magnificent tucked in tightly against her back, but when they extended, they were a thing of pure beauty. With one beat of her wings, Mnemosia took to the air and immediately regretted it when her head crashed into something solid above her.

She dropped back to the floor, a couple of feet below her, and dropped to a knee. Mnemosia placed her sword on the ground and rubbed the back of her head. Confusion clouded her brain, and not just from the impact, as she was sure that the room was much larger than a couple of feet taller than her. Ochar started trudging forward again but Mnemosia knocked it sprawling with a well-timed shield strike to its chest. While it was getting up, as slowly as an old man with arthritis, Mnemosia raised her sword to see what she had hit.

With a click of her tongue she realised what she had done and chided herself silently. While she had been defending against Ochar, she had managed to position herself under some kind of archway, which is why she had hit her head when trying to take flight. She stepped to the side, using her sword to make sure she was clear of any more arches and spread her wings for a second time.

The thump of air rattled the bones on the floor but it successfully carried Mnemosia into the air above her opponent, who disappeared into the darkness below. Two more strong beats took her higher and Mnemosia started to wonder how big the area actually was. A whistling sound in the air caught her attention and she swept to the side quickly, just in time to dodge an arrow. For a second she was confused, Ochar definitely did not have a bow on it, before realising what it was doing. She swept to the side again to dodge another arrow that Ochar was clearly pulling from its body, either its legs or its left shoulder.

"I've had enough of the dark." Mnemosia said and spread her wings wide. Their magic kept her aloft without the need to beat her wings as each individual feather started to glow like miniature suns. The light spread quickly across the wings' surface until Mnemosia was the centre of a blazing torch that revealed the darkened room and Ochar's position below her.

Now she could see, Mnemosia realised that she and Ochar had been fighting in some sort of throne room built for something as big as a giant. The bones she had come across before scattered the floor in troves, all leading to a giant stone throne that had been built into the far wall; no-one was sitting in it. Her light also revealed the arches she had hit as decorations carved at intervals along the length of each wall. Gargoyles sat above her flight perch while the gilded roof sat even higher. Mnemosia gazed up, noting that the design of the ceiling matched the Shrine of Eaecat back in Ycaria.

A disturbance in the air brought her back to the fight and she dodged sideways to avoid another arrow.

"You are starting to annoy me." She said loudly, her voice echoing around the room. Mnemosia used her wings skilfully and dive bombed Ochar as it pulled another arrow from itself.

It didn't have time to react as she swept past it, severing its axe arm for a second time. However, this time she took the limb with her and threw it into the distance, where it landed with a thud. Ochar started after it but Mnemosia swung in for a second attack and took its other arm, this time throwing it in the opposite direction. Ochar looked towards both arms, clearly confused as to which limb to fetch first. Mnemosia swooped in for a third attack but Ochar decided to focus on her suddenly and she didn't manage to avoid the kick as it caught her in the forehead.

Ochar hit with strength its rotting body hid and Mnemosia crashed into the floor and rolled a few times before coming to a stop. Her wings quickly pulled themselves free and Mnemosia got to her feet to see Ochar running surprisingly quickly to retrieve its right arm. It did so, reattaching it and picking up its axe which had been thrown away with it, and turned back to Mnemosia, looking past her to its other arm.

Mnemosia growled and spun her sword around before piercing it into the ground before her. "I've had it with you, Twice Dead Ochar; I'll not be embarrassed by an undead monster from Spectre!" She spread her wings wide and small tendrils of light erupted from the feathers before starting to form a sphere around her. "I am the Ardea Avatar, the Third Holy Honoured, life force and protector of the Solar Heron. I will not be shamed by the likes of you!"

She shouted the last word, and as she did, the sphere of light that had surrounded her expanded out at an explosive rate. As the wave passed over Ochar, the bone of its axe handle disintegrated and the metal axe blade fell to the floor. Ochar's mottled skin began to smoke. Mnemosia took a step forward, having pulled her sword from the ground, and another wave erupted from her. It passed over Ochar and its armour shattered and fell to the ground around it, leaving its yellow spotted skin open to the air. Another step, another wave and this time all the pustules covering Ochar's body exploded, spraying green liquid around it in a star shape.

"Be gone, false immortal; and never rise again." This time Mnemosia raised her wings above her and the light swirled behind her to form into a heron, its own wings spread for flight. "Your kind lives no more!" the heron shot forward like an arrow and as its light passed over Ochar, the undead creature turned to ash and then the ash itself was reduced to nothing.

As the light died away, leaving Mnemosia stood in the dark with her sword and halo bathing her in their light, she slammed her sword against her shield three times and thrust her sword into the air. "For your glory, Solar Heron." The white light of victory descended from above her and in a flash, Mnemosia was taken.


	11. The Necromancer vs The Marauder

**.**

**\- Chapter Eleven -**

**\- The Necromancer vs The Marauder -**

**\- The Cleansing Ground -**

Ebu inched forward, his feet sliding noiselessly through the calf-high water. The water was crystal clear and spanned as far as Ebu could see. Underneath the water was soft sand that moved under his boots. Ebu stopped ten feet from the old man, a frown on his face.

Ebu was not often a careful man, as shown by what he wore. The white armour sided with gold that had been placed on his breast, shoulders, thighs and knees were chipped and broken in parts from all the blows they had taken. His yellow scarf and yellow cloth that dangled down from his belt were tattered and dotted with holes. More often than not, Ebu tended to charge into the fray with his men.

He had no men here, though. It was only him and the old man - and he knew the old man to be his opponent. Ebu fingered the loop of gold in his three-pronged beard as he analysed the man with his one eye. The other was covered with a simple eye-patch.

Tobias von Hodenberg wore an ornate purple robe that separated at the waist to reveal a black robe underneath. A cloth of grey with white skull designs dropped from his waist while the purple robe was fringed at the sleeves with golden weave. A belt of animal skulls hung at his waist while a collar of green metal lined with gold had been placed on his shoulders. The old man was bald on top, but his hair descended down to his feet otherwise. His beard reached his waist and his eyebrows shot out on either side like antennae.

Ebu had an inkling notion that he knew this man but couldn't quite place it. In any case, the only movement the man made was his chest moving up and down as he seemed to sleep. He found it hard to believe that this match would be this easy but when life gives you lemons…

The marauder flicked his thumbs on either sword at his side, leaving a third sword alone. The swords slid out of their scabbards but at that noise the man's head flicked upwards. Ebu grabbed the handles of the swords while Tobias opened his eyes. They were completely white.

"...I assume… you are my… opponent…" Tobias said slowly, straightening his body. Ebu could hear the pops of his bones from where he stood. "My name… is Tobias… Von Hodenberg. It… is only fair… we introduce ourselves."

"I am Ebu, of the Marauders."

"Empire…" Tobias breathed. His robe was sodden with the clear water, clinging to bony legs.

"Do you have a problem with the Empire?" Ebu asked, aiming to gain some more information of this Tobias, whose look niggled at the back of his memory.

"Not… so much a problem... " Tobias lifted a green bottle from his belt and looked into the swirling green liquid within. "...as a vendetta…" He popped the cork off with a flick of his finger and took a deep gulp. He closed his eyes as his fists squeezed shut. The bottle smashed into sharp shards of glass, dropping with small splashes into the calf-high sea of water. When Tobias von Hodenberg opened his eyes again, they were glowing green.

Ebu decided that he didn't want to give the old man a chance. He tried to sprint forward but only managed an awkward gait, the water hindering his rush. As he stumbled near the old man, something hit him hard in the chest. Ebu fell back, splashing in the water. He made to get up but a glowing green hand latched around his face and pushed his head under the water.

Ebu barely managed to shut his mouth in time, a few bubbles escaping. He dropped one sword to wrestle with the hand but his hand went straight through. _A… ghost!?_ Ebu reached for his third sword at his hip but a second hand pushed his arm against the smooth sand. Ebu could feel his lungs trying to gain air. He never was much of a swimmer. Ebu let go of his second sword and tried to reach for the third sword again. His fingers scrabbled at the maroon leather before he finally got a good grasp. Ebu pulled the sword out and slashed wildly in front of him.

There was a hiss and the force disappeared from his face. Ebu scrambled to his feet, shaking water from his hair. He clasped his sword in both hands and faced the spirit in front of him.

It was glowing green, much the same shade as Tobias' eyes. It was mostly a floating torso covered in bandages, with long spindly arms and even longer fingers. Its head was topped with a bulbous green pustule and great sharp green teeth. Its spinal cord curved through the air, connecting to Tobias' back.

"A necromancer…" Ebu breathed.

Tobias tilted his head. "What sword is that?"

A laugh escaped Ebu's lips. "Looks like you got the wrong draw, old man. This sword was forged for slaying the undead - body or spirit."

"Hrm… A sword… such as that would… have a name."

"Eratare." Ebu smiled again. "The Bane of the Undead."

Tobias chuckled, a deep, throaty, almost unhealthy sounding laugh. "A… fitting… name…" Tobias flicked his fingers and the spirit shot forward, hands cutting through the air. Ebu lifted his sword to block the blow and the fingers scraped across the blade. Ebu spun the sword and sliced across the spirit's torso. It made an odd shrieking sound as green ectoplasm dripped to the floor. The spirit backed away, teeth chattering.

"Hrm…" Tobias' hands moved to his waist where he selected two skulls from his belt. One was almost certainly a human's skull, while the other was thicker around the nose and eyes with teeth sharpened into points. Tobias held them aloft. "_Arise, fallen ones of the Spectre. Fight for me. Fight for Tobias von Hodenberg!"_In that one sentence was power and confidence that Tobias hadn't shown before. The skulls were enveloped by green light and the green solidified, wrapping around into a ghostly body for each skull.

The Human stood naked, a slender man with a nose long ago broken and an open wound on his neck, leaking the green ectoplasm. The Beast stood like an ape, with thick arms knuckled on the floor and smaller but as-muscled legs. It was coated in coarse green hair.

The Beast leapt forward, fists and feet splashing in the water. It pushed off the ground and curved through the air towards Ebu, arms outstretched. Ebu rolled to the side awkwardly through the water, sending an errant slash towards the Beast. The slash missed and as soon as Ebu got to his feet it smashed a heavy fist into his chest with enough force that Ebu could feel his armour crack. He managed to stay on his feet and slice at the Beast's chest but it hopped backwards, head cocked to one side.

The Human was now walking towards Ebu, spinning two swords. _My swords!_ Ebu thought, feeling a twinge of anger. He moved for the Human but the Beast went to block his way. Ebu feinted down but stabbed upwards, impaling the Beast through the shoulder. The Beast ignored the attack and punched Ebu hard in the jaw.

Ebu's face twisted and he stumbled back, spitting blood into the clear water. He heard the swish of air and raised Eratare just in time to block a two-sword attack from the Human. Ebu dashed forward, using the Human's intangibility to his advantage, while keeping Eratare from touching its form. Now behind the Human, Ebu swung around and sent Eratare through the Human's neck. The head separated from the shoulders, spinning in the air. As it fell, Ebu slashed upwards, cutting the skull in two with Eratare. Almost instantly the green glow of the Human dissolved, the swords dropping back into the water.

Ebu ducked, easily predicting the next move of the Beast. Its thick hand hit empty air and Ebu stabbed upwards, taking the skull underneath the jaw. This time the Beast dissolved, leaving no trace of itself. Ebu pushed the Beast's skull off with his foot and faced Tobias.

He was surprised to see that green pustules had ruptured Tobias' skin on his left arm, as well as one on the side of his forehead. They pulsed green, as if ready to burst. The spirit mirrored this change. Ebu noted this - it meant that the necromancer and his spirit were attached by more than just summons.

At the flick of a finger, the spirit flew through the air towards Ebu. Ebu slashed and took off the spirit's clawed hand at the wrist. He stepped to the side to avoid the other hand and swung down, taking off the spirit's other arm. The spirit backed up and new limbs already started to form. This only confirmed what Ebu had already suspected.

Ebu had encountered other necromancers in his travels. Any spirits summoned from beyond the grave often had a Token in the real world, something that anchored them to the earthly realm. Tobias had used skulls for the Beast and the Human, and it seemed that he had used himself for his spirit. Ebu frowned. That was unheard of. To use life with death… broke every law Ebu thought he knew about necromancers.

The spirit slashed again but Ebu was ready with a slash of his sword. Almost as soon as he swung he cursed himself. _Stupid!_The other hand slashed and carved through his waist. Ebu grunted in pain and jumped back. He glanced down to his wound and saw the blood dripping down his side to splash into the water and dissolve into a red mist. The next slash he barely blocked with Eratare but once again the spirit cut at his waist, opening the wound. Ebu bit his tongue to stop from screaming and stabbed at the spirit's head. The spirit didn't even try to move. The sword pushed through the green, splitting it, but the spirit's hands grabbed him tightly around his throat. Ebu's eyes widened as the fingertips started pushing into his neck.

He wasn't going to allow that. Ebu cut both hands free with one swipe of Eratare and rolled to the side, getting used to the water affecting his movements now. He slashed at the spirits back as his hands formed back. The spirit slashed once but Ebu dodged instead, blocking the second blow this time. Learning in battle was something Ebu was experienced at. He sent another slash, connecting with the spirit's chest. As quick as he could Ebu sent another to cut off one arm and then the other. Three more slashes into the spirit's chest cut the spirit in half. Even as the halves separated the spirit formed his arms and sent one at Ebu's waist.

Ebu knew that he couldn't dodge this time but he also knew he couldn't let the wound get any bigger. He thrust his left hand down and the spirit's hand carved a hole into his palm but stopped just short of the wound. Ebu blocked the next blow and cut off the spirit's hands once more. Two more slashes put the spirit in four pieces and Ebu took the chance to sprint forwards toward Tobias.

Tobias lifted his head and looked at the marauder as he ran through the water. Ebu clenched the handle with his right hand, his left all but useless. Just before he reached the necromancer he felt hands tighten around his shoulders.

Ebu was then lifted into the air.

His legs flailed as he was pulled higher into the air. He glanced up to see the spirit carrying him higher and higher. Ebu grimaced. He was high enough now to cause injury if he fell, but any higher would be death… Ebu closed his eye. Injury was an injury. You can recover from an injury, death not so much. He opened his eye and without hesitation slashed above him to cut the arms off the spirit.

Ebu fell instantly and tried to curve into a ball to protect from injury. He hit the water and the sand hard and pain lanced up his leg. This time Ebu let the scream out and thrashed through the water. He glanced down to see his right leg twisted in the wrong direction, a shard of femur sticking out of the skin. Ebu took a few moments to catch his breath and rolled through the water to avoid the spearing blow from the spirit. Pushing himself up on Eratare he got to one leg, ignoring the lances of pain through his right one.

The spirit soared through the air, claws outstretched. Ebu grit his teeth and slashed downwards with all his strength. The spirit split in two vertically, both halves drifting out into the air. With this chance Ebu turned on his foot to face Tobias.

The old man seemed even worse for wear, the green pustules curving up his arms and over his head. He seemed to be breathing laboriously, eyes shut in concentration. Ebu looked away and found his swords that the Human had dropped, seen easily through the clear water. He hopped over with help from Eratare. At the last moment he spun around the cut the spirit in two horizontally. Ebu sent a wave of precision cuts at the spirit. Two took off the arms, another cut the head in two and another to make four pieces. As the pieces drifted Ebu placed Eratare's hilt in his mouth and leaned down to pick up his two swords.

With Eratare in his mouth and the swords in either hand, Ebu turned and whipped one sword as hard as he could at Tobias. It impaled through the old man's outstretched hand in a spurt of thin red blood. Tobias' eyes shot open in surprise and pain. The momentary lapse of concentration sent a flicker through the unmoving spirit. Ebu used the chance to throw his next sword. This one connected with Tobias's other hand. Tobias yelled out in a pained voice and fell to his knees, hands hanging uselessly to either side, impaled by the swords. Ebu took Eratare from his mouth and limped over to where Tobias kneeled.

He placed Eratare back into his mouth and pulled his swords from Tobias' hands. As he lifted them to behead the old man he suddenly felt a searing pain through his stomach. Ebu looked down to find a glowing green hand through a bloody, ragged hole in his stomach. Ebu blinked and coughed, blood spraying over Tobias' face. The old man straightened up with a throaty laugh, cradling his bloodied hands.

"It… was a… pleasure…" Tobias said. Ebu grit his teeth harder on Eratare as the second hand burst through his chest and through his right lung. Ebu stood bleeding in front of Tobias, not even given the chance to fall to the floor. "I would have… liked… to use you… but I don't have… time to… clean your… skull…" Tobias raised his hand. "Thank you… Ebu… of the…. Marau-"

Tobias blinked. He glanced to his left to see the point of one sword out of his shoulder. His head slowly turned to the right to find the point of the second sword poking through his skin and robes. Tobias looked down to find that Ebu had pierced either side of his waist diagonally up through his chest. Tobias looked up and stared into Ebu's fierce face. That face swept to the side and the blade of Eratare slid gracefully across Tobias' throat. The spray of blood coated Ebu head to neck in crimson blood. Tobias watched his own spirit flicker and disappear and at that moment knew he was dead.

Ebu fell down at the same time as Tobias, landing with a splash back-first in the water. He kept hold of his swords as best he could, not willing to let them go. They had seen him through so many battles. He would not abandon them at the last battle. Ebu grinned to the sky as the light enveloped his vision.

_So… there is light at the end… huh…_


	12. The Grand Duke vs The Sylth Knight

**.**

**\- Chapter Twelve -**

**\- The Grand Duke vs The Sylth Knight -**

**\- The Earth's Eye -**

The volcanic mound put most mountains to shame and earned its supervolcano status with ease. Its severed peak was at least 10 miles in diameter and spewed a constant stream of dark coloured ash into the sky above it. Within the crater was a lake of flowing lava, churning around in a slow circle with large clumps of cooled magma floating on the surface like small islands; all varying in size. It was on one of these islands, probably big enough for five people stood touching, that a man in head-to-toe armour stood silently.

"I hate the heat." Radoraan muttered.

The armour he wore was a dark blue colour and seemed to flow like it was constructed out of water. It seemed to be skin tight, hugging tightly to Radoraan's muscled body and not one shred of skin was on show. Embedded in the armour at the knees, shoulders, and chest were glowing pink orbs. Similar orbs, although not glowing, were embedded in a curved pattern along his thighs and the sides of his torso, below his arms; more of them decorated the underside of his forearm. A black sash was wrapped tightly around his waist. Three fin-shaped spines ran down the centre of his back, with a matching pair on each forearm. The helmet he wore had a glowing orb in the centre of the forehead, and two wide slits that formed eyes covered with a black glass-like substance. Three fins ran down the centre of the helmet like a mohawk.

Held loosely in each hand were two near-identical swords. Each of them had a wide blade, the lower half serrated while the top half glinted with their sharpness. They both had golden handguards, curved up into the blade with a small pink orb sat at the centre. Both had wood-like handles, of equal length to the blade, distorted slightly like a tree branch with dull orbs looking like they were trying to break free. The only obvious difference between the weapons was that the sword in his right hand had a glowing pink orb at the base, held in small claw protrusions from the wood, while the second sword simply sported the clawed protrusions but no orb.

Radoraan gripped his swords tightly as a larger piece of floating rock passed nearby and he used the opportunity to hop across to it with a controlled leap. As he landed, bending his knees slightly to reduce the impact, two crows appeared from above and gently landed in front of him. While Radoraan looked down at them, a loud cry sounded from above him.

"Land ahoy!" Someone called and Radoraan saw a massive chunk of rock, seemingly torn from the side of the crater, heading for his position.

It crashed into the opposite end of the floating island Radoraan was on and he felt himself being catapulted into the air by the force. Instead of fighting it, Radoraan used the momentum to flip gracefully through the air and land on another island; this one was big enough for a small house. Radoraan spun on his heels, one sword held high to defend while the other was held low for attack, and quickly searched for his attacker. A shadow appeared in the ash above him and he quickly jumped back to avoid being crushed as a rather rotund man landed heavily, causing the island to shake worryingly before coming to a rest.

"I see you are my opponent," the large man said. "Do I know you from somewhere, you look vaguely familiar."

The man stood taller than Radoraan by a head or so and was at least twice as wide, making him look somewhat like a beach ball with arms and legs. His skin was a sickly green colour, with yellowish veins running its length, and had the vague outline of hundreds of different faces. He sported shoulder length white hair and a matching beard around a large mouth lined with multiple rows of teeth. Small black horns rose from his temples and two larger versions sprouted from each shoulder. He was wearing the remains of a white shirt, and black trousers, with a navy officer's coat tied around his neck and hanging down his back. A curved sword with a pommel the shape of a raven's head hung low on his left leg. On the end of his fingers were shiny, black, inch-long talons while his toes were similar.

"Anyway, I am Friedrich Altgraf." He said loudly as the two ravens from earlier landed on each shoulder.

Friedrich may have vaguely recognised Radoraan, although Radoraan was sure it was only the armour he recognised, but Radoraan had known who he was before he had introduced himself. It would have been low form for anyone to fail to recognise the military leader of Spectre. If he believed in luck, which he didn't, Radoraan would curse his; Grand Duke Friedrich Altgraf would be a hard man to beat.

"Oh that's right, you're a Sylth Knight, aren't you?" Friedrich continued.

Radoraan remained silent for a second before talking. "I am the current Sylth Knight, Radoraan of the Coral."

"Coral?" Friedrich said with a strange look on his face. "The one I met said he was 'of the Pearl', so you are named different things?"

Radoraan knew this man was his enemy, but something about the way he spoke made Radoraan want to answer his questions. "When a Sylth Knight is crowned, their object is equivalent to rank, of which there are five; Sand, Waves, Pearl, Reef, and Coral."

"Interesting. So you are the highest ranking Sylth Knight?"

"There are only 3 crowned knights at any one time, but yes, I am the highest currently." Radoraan smiled under his mask; it was a point of pride that he had been ranked above the other crowned knights.

"So this should be exciting then." Friedrich's eyes suddenly erupted with green light and one of the faces on his chest shot forward like a cannon, trailing vaporous green smoke.

Radoraan was quick on his feet and ducked beneath the attack, slicing his sword down its length to sever it in half. However, nothing happened as the face hit the ground behind him before growing into a naked human.

"Of course, a soul." Radoraan growled.

"Indeed, you recognise me, of course, so you should have really expected a soul." Friedrich replied with a grin.

Radoraan ducked a blow from the Soul and hopped backwards to the edge of the island. The Soul stumbled forward with arms flailing and Radoraan simply sidestepped and ducked in behind him, watching as the Soul teetered of the edge and fell into the lava. It disappeared behind the churning, super-heated sludge but a second later it floated upwards to hover in front of Radoraan.

"He's a soul, remember; a little bit of lava won't hurt him." Friedrich called from where he had landed, having not moved an inch.

Radoraan made a noise and then jumped backwards again, this time spinning his swords before slamming their hilts together. As they touched, the empty claw on his left sword closed around the orb on the right and a bright pink light erupted from it. The light slammed into the soul and as if the light was made of little metal shards and the soul flesh, the soul was rendered to pieces before disappearing.

Friedrich frowned and held out his hand, where the pieces of the soul quickly gathered to form a sphere. He lifted the sphere and dropped it into his open mouth, swallowing loudly before dropping his gaze to Radoraan.

"Now that's not very nice, he was going to kill you quickly. I don't like how you could kill him either, how did you do it?"

Radoraan spun his new dual-bladed weapon around in his hands, and the glow from the central spread outwards until the entire weapon was covered in its unearthly aura. He gripped it suddenly and swung it so he was holding it behind his back, one blade over his left shoulder, the other pointing downwards.

"The Sylth Knights are a beacon of hope for all of Abyss, trained and equipped to fight any and all foes; this includes the Necromancers of Spectre. We all carry anti-soul weapons on our persons." Radoraan replied.

Strangely unperturbed by the information, Friedrich simply smiled . "Indeed, now I think about it, the 'pearl' fellow I met before had similar weapons."

Suddenly three souls materialized around Radoraan, all of them reptilian in nature and wielding large spears of bone, and stabbed at him. Radoraan raised his arms in front of his face but otherwise he did nothing as the spears aimed to pierce him from all sides. However, as the soul weapons touched his armour, a flash of pink light erupted again and disintegrated the three attackers. When the green smoke cleared, the pink orbs on Radoraan's armour were now glowing; although he wasn't bathed in any kind of aura like his weapons.

This time, Friedrich looked rightly stunned. Radoraan couldn't help but smile; not that Friedrich could see it. "Oh, did I forget to mention that I'm wearing state-of-the-art armour; built with the same thing in mind as our training, so it is resistant to pretty much everything. Add to that being constructed of one of the hardest substances in the lands and you end up with a pretty impenetrable barrier between the outside world and me." This time Radoraan took the initiative and dashed forward, weapon spinning and ready to attack.

More nimble than he looked, Friedrich leaped away from the attack and landed on a different island in the lava, splashing the red hot liquid towards Radoraan. "It seems I'll have to bring out someone special for you. It's a shame about all this lava, or you'd have more to worry about than just souls." Friedrich's clawed hand pierced into his side and he pulled out a soul-face, its features angry with rage. "Say hello." He threw the soul back to Radoraan's island where it hit the ground and immediately started growing into an armoured man.

His armour was strikingly similar to Radoraan's, except that skin could be seen at thighs, biceps, and neck, and his helmet showed off deadly looking eyes and a grim mouth. In his hands, he held a long hafted trident with tiny orbs dotted the length of the shaft. Radoraan did not need to see the Kraken carved into the chest piece to realise who it was.

"You killed him?!" He said, directing his anger at Friedrich.

"Oh yes, after hours and hours of agonizing pain. He apparently tried to assassinate me, not that he ever told me who had hired him. Look, here are his friends." He spread his arms wide and four more angry looking soul-faces burst forward and landed next to the first man, forming quickly into two more men, and two women.

Radoraan started to physically shake with anger, his hand gripping his weapon beyond tightly while the other clenched tightly into a fist. "Xuul Du, Reng Ur, Rior Dan, Kerra Tu, Lught Va. I will cleanse your souls and free them to give you peace."

"My, you'll have to do more than beat them to free them from my service; in fact, even killing me wouldn't do that." Friedrich said with his slim smile ever present. "Anyway, stop babbling and fight!"

On the final word, Xuul Du raced forward and thrust at Radoraan with his trident. Radoraan deflected the blow with his dual-blade and spun into Xuul's guard, elbowing him in the face with his anti-soul armour. A flash of pink told of the contact but Radoraan ignored it as he stepped back to avoid the thrust of one of Kerra Tu's thin bladed daggers. As Xuul staggered backwards, Kerra took his place and initiated a flurry of lightning fast blows that rained down on Radoraan.

Even he could not block every single blow, but luckily his armour prevented Kerra from injuring him. Even as she continued her flurry, Radoraan saw Reng Ur step in behind him with his mighty war hammer and barely managed to dodge to the side as the weapon struck the ground and snapped it in two. Immediately lava started to seep up through the broken area and the island started to sink. Radoraan ignored his opponents, turned, and leapt quickly to a passing island, turning around again to see the five souls float and land next to him.

Kerra stepped in to resume her attack, but Radoraan ignored her as he deflected a pair of arrows aimed at his eyes; courtesy of Rior Dan. Rior fired another two, but Radoraan sidestepped them and ducked under Terra's renewed attack, slicing upwards through her chest and head as he did so. As his blade severed the soul, Radoraan took one of her daggers and launched it across the island where it took Rior in the face. Unfortunately, the soul dagger could not harm another soul, but Radoraan took the opportunity to roll into Xuul's range and pierce him through the chest.

Lught Va appeared next to him and her long sword pierced downwards with enough force to crack the ground. Radoraan elbowed her out of the way and took her sword in his free hand, launching it at Rior as he aimed another set of arrows after removing Kerra's dagger from his eye socket. This time it took him in the chest and sent him sprawling with its weight. A soul weapon couldn't hurt another soul, but it could still pierce them and cause them trouble.

Lught Va started to attack him with flailing fists but Radoraan simply cut them off and then beheaded her, before leaping across to Reng Ur and dodging the heavy hammer swing before severing his legs and piercing him through the forehead. Radoraan took the heavy hammer in hand and used it to knock Rior back to give him enough time to reach the archer. He quickly sliced through the bow string, rendering it useless, and then pierced him through the eyes. This left the whole team floundering on the floor, apparently useless.

Radoraan turned his attention to Friedrich and leapt across to the island he was standing on. "Your turn, except you'll have much more blood." He started advancing with his blade ready but stopped at Friedrich's smile.

"Oh dear boy, you underestimate me. I am Grand Duke Friedrich Altgraf, General-in-Chief of the Undead Armies of Spectre, and world renowned Necromancer. Don't think a silly 'anti-soul' weapon created by your useless Abyss can counter my summons."

Radoraan started to retort but felt a strong pull on his arm and saw an uninjured Kerra Tu grabbing it and pulling backwards. As he moved his other arm to free himself, Lught Va appeared and grabbed it, pulling it backwards. They started to pull him back towards the edge of the island and while struggling, Radoraan managed to drop his weapon. With a growl he used a burst of strength to reach down for it. However, before he could clasp it a strong arm wrapped around his neck and Reng Ur started dragging him back as well. Rior Dan stepped in front of him and wrapped his arms around Radoraan's waist before starting to push. Against four strong souls, Radoraan started sliding backwards against his best efforts; directly towards the lava at the edge of the island.

He tried to pull forward as his heels touched the edge but suddenly Xuul Du appeared and drop kicked him in the chest. He was knocked clear of the edge and the four warriors started pulling down when he hit the lava. Radoraan felt the heat was over him but still fought to break free of the souls' grip. However, Xuul appeared again and grasped the top of his head, forcing it downwards quicker.

Radoraan roared as the lava rose above his chin, but Friedrich only laughed until the armoured soldier was completely submerged. A minute passed and then the five souls floated upwards before Friedrich summoned them to his hand and returned them to his stomach to recharge their power.

"Mm, if I'd thought about it; I would have kept your body here so I could take your soul to join your kind. Oh well, next time perhaps."

He turned away with a laugh, when the ground cracked before him and suddenly Radoraan appeared, dripping lava from his armour, and latched onto the sword at Friedrich's belt.

"What!" Friedrich cried as the scabbard started to splinter under Radoraan's grip.

"I told you this armour was impenetrable. I'm sweating buckets but still alive enough to keep my promise." Radoraan said and then with another roar, he completely shattered the Grand Duke's sword.

Green energy surged out of it and started to surround Friedrich as he deflated like a balloon and the souls in his body started to leak out. "You have no idea what you've done, freeing all of these souls!"

Radoraan shrugged. "I've killed you." Then he turned and dived back into the lava just as Friedrich cried out and exploded in a sphere of green energy that spread around the crater but disturbed nothing.

Radoraan surfaced next to the island he had been dragged off of and pulled himself out of the lava. "I hate the heat." He muttered as a light appeared above him, he quickly shot out his hand and grasped his weapon just as the light covered him and took him away.


	13. The Strange Magician vs The Protector

**.**

**\- Chapter Thirteen -**

**\- The Strange Magician vs The Protector -**

**\- Bereallia -**

"Snow. I hate snow. It irritates my skin, it's wet, and it's _cold,_" Kanh muttered to himself as he brushed snow from his shoulders but it was a fruitless effort. The snow gathered just as quick as he could brush it away. "Blast it!" Kanh swept his hand through the air and fire swirled out of his palm. The snow sizzled upon contact with the flames, melting into steam. Kanh made a broad stroke with his hand and the fire burnt away a large chunk of the snow, revealing a glittering, crying frozen river beneath.

"Ice… I hate ice." Kanh snapped his teeth and crossed his arms. He wore an ornate set of golden armor, crafted by a smith in Ferabolt as a reward for protecting the city from the Grey Giant. Blue strips of cloth hung from his shoulders and waist, etched with strange golden circular symbols. At his waist hung a golden hilt bound in leather but it had no blade to speak of.

"This is all that guard's fault." Kanh growled, swinging his head about, eyes narrowing across the snowy landscape. "Telling me that I should fight in a stupid tournament and that I would be making my family proud. Humph, my family is long dead and gone. Ferabolt is my family now and would they be proud? Hell if I know, I doubt they even know I'm here. What's the damn point… oh, but he had to say that it would protect Ferabolt… I'm a fool. How is _this _protecting Ferabolt? Stuck in the god-awful mountains. Stupid, stupid, stupid…"

A particularly thick snowflake landed on the top of his head, where the golden band held his hair tight vertically in a ponytail, with the rest of his head bald. The flake slid down past thick eyebrows, past a number of faded scars, and caught one side of his moustache. It slid down the hanging thin hair to drop down under his collar.

"The Phoenix scorch you all!" Kanh roared, his left eye twitched. He outstretched both hands and fire formed in his palms. He pivoted on his foot four times until the flame completely surrounded him in a cocoon of fire. "**Burn!**" The fire exploded outwards with intense speed. It sprinted across the flat area where Kanh was standing, the snow bursting into steam instantly. Even the icy river completely dissipated, leaving a deep groove in the ground as well as revealing multiple large holes pockmarking the surface. The fire continued its annihilation and swept up the mountainsides. The flame disappeared over the peaks, a glint on the horizon.

Kanh closed his eyes and took a breath. It wouldn't do to lose his temper. He reached into the wrist of his leather glove and pulled out a cigarette. He placed the black cylinder into his mouth and touched it with the end of a finger. A small fire flickered briefly to light the cigarette before disappearing. Kanh took a deep drag before breathing out, smoke rising from his nostrils. He stared at the desolation around him; the mountains were now bleak and black, completely empty of life and color.

Now that he thought about it, Kanh could hear something at the back of his mind. "Opponent… what's this about an opponent? Stupid fighting, stupid snow, stupid ice…"

"I am your opponent, dear." Kanh swung around to come face to face with a lady floating in the air. "That would be me, Malecia."

"Malecia…" Kanh let the name roll off his tongue. There was something familiar about the woman. Her hair was white as that blasted snow, falling down into a loose ponytail bolted with a golden clasp. She wore strange garb of feathers and fur, with leather vest and breeches. A blue cloth descended from a leather scarf and tucked down her golden belt to hang to her ankles. The cloth was torn in places but Kanh realized with a start that it bore the same designs as his own. He bit down hard on his cigarette. "Malecia. You were exiled."

"Does this look like Ferabolt, my student?"

"It has been twenty years since you taught me and-"

"-and I will always be your teacher, and you, my student." Malecia drifted to the burnt ground, her blue boots landing softly on the stone. The gleam of the sun reflected off of the circlet about her head.

Kanh took the hilt from his belt and held it loosely in his left hand. "I have surpassed your power."

Malecia threw back her head and laughed. Kanh's eyebrows furrowed in anger.

"Stop laughing this instant!"

Malecia wiped away tears with her forearm. "Oh, heh, I'm sorry. Do you think I sat and twiddled my thumbs for twenty years, Kanh? You really don't think you are the only one who has developed?"

"An old dog can only learn so much."

Malecia pouted. "Well, that's not very nice. I'm only one hundred and three." She grinned, a glint in her eye. "You were always brash. In a way you remind me of Merana."

"I am far superior to _her!_" Kanh spat, fire trailing down his arms, embers floating off his skin.

"And yet she is the great master of Ferabolt."

"I _protect_ Ferabolt!" Kanh fumed. "While she sits in that seat with her politics I stand outside the Golden Gates to fend off all opponents. I experienced ten years of harsh training! I conquered the Seven Trials of Honor, I survived the Pit of Delaron, I bore witness to the Shrine of the Gods to submit myself to the Phoenix! I am Kanh, master of fire, wielder of the ethereal flows, and a hero to the people! I-"

"You talk too much." Malecia stepped forward and plunged a dagger in Kanh's throat. Kanh blinked, blood spurting out in bright rivers to splash on Malecia's face. The cigarette fell from his mouth, spinning in the air to snuff out against the floor. Malecia smiled…

...then blinked. Kanh stood with his arms crossed, his cigarette smoking in his mouth. He was smiling. "You think I didn't know you were there? You underestimate me. The flow of the ethereal is my plaything."

"Mere illusions." Malecia spat.

"But this is not an illusion!" Kanh ran forward with surprising speed, holding the hilt in front of him. As he ran, a sparkling blue blade formed from the blade, curving slightly so the tip pointed at Kanh. He swung and slashed Malecia from shoulder to hip. Kanh turned on his foot so he was facing away from Malecia and thrust the sword backwards with both hands. It slammed into her belly. Kanh pulled the sword away and turned, only to see Malecia seem to fall apart and disappear. Kanh blinked and Melecia was floating a good ten feet away, a book hovering in front of her. She pushed the book aside to look Kanh in the eyes.

"Not an illusion, hm?"

Kanh grinded his teeth, snapping through his cigarette. "So you can colour your mist now. A fancy trick, but nothing much more."

"As much a trick as your ethereal manipulation. Both are illusion based."

"Oh? I would like to disprove that theory." Kanh held his hilt out and a battle-axe formed out of the sparkling blue matter. "I learned to harness the flows into physical constructs. One of many things I have learned."

Malecia chuckled. "Funny. I disproved that my mist was a mere illusion seven years ago. _Fluent ad ventri, aere!_" Malecia extended her hand; her palm facing Kanh. A tendril of mist shot out at intense speed and slammed into Kanh's stomach. His eyes widened as he staggered back. "_Maxilla!_" With a flick of her finger the mist snapped upwards, hitting Kanh's jaw. Kanh grimaced and swung the battle-axe to cut the mist in two. Malecia let the mist dissolve and crossed her arms. The book flicked past pages in front of her.

"Heh… heheh… stupid… mist…" Kanh growled. He straightened up, a bruise already forming on his jaw. "I think we are both fed up of showing off. Shall we fight, Malecia?"

"To the death?" Malecia inquired.

"To the death." Kanh confirmed.

The battle-axe dissolved into a long, straight sword as Kanh ran forward. "_Ad ipsam crura, aere!_" Malecia chanted as Kanh's left hand burst into fire. A tendril of mist whipped out of Malecia's hand, soaring horizontally through the air at Kanh's legs. Kanh jumped the mist and placed his fiery hand on the sword. The sword lit up in a blaze. "_Cistam!_"

The tendril shot at Kanh but he cut it away into sizzling droplets with his flaming sword. He landed deftly on his feet and sent a swipe of flame at Malecia. Malecia floated backwards, the book following her movements, and swept her hand through the air. "_Horruit hastis aere!_"

Five different spears of mist shot out to hover in front of the open book. "_Dextrum crus!" _The first shot at Kanh's right leg. He cut it away with his flame and took a step forward. "_Bracium sinistrum occupans!_" The next spear shot at his left arm. Kanh slashed it away with ease. "_Dextrum! Sinistro Crure!_" Two shot at the same time, one for his left leg the other for his right arm. Kanh hopped in the air to avoid the one aimed for his leg while he cut away at the other. "_Caput!" _The final spear shot straight towards Kanh's head. Kanh barely twisted his head to the side. The spear cut past his cheek, drawing a small dribble of blood. As he landed he brought down his sword with both hands and cut Malecia in two. She drifted apart into mist.

Without missing a beat Kanh spun around to cut another Malecia in two at the waist. She dissolved once more. Kanh turned back around to find twenty Malecia's staring at him. Kanh just scoffed. "Your parlor tricks can't fool me. The flows tell me which one you are." Kanh pointed his hilt at one particular mist clone and it formed into a barrel with a trigger. "A weapon I saw a Shadow assassin use once." He pressed down on the trigger and a circular bullet shot through the air. Malacia moved to the side but was too slow. The bullet took her in the shoulder, drawing blood. She grimaced, the pages flickering on her book. She extended her hands.

"_Multiplicentur!_" Each clone multiplied by ten, each body stepping out of the other. Kanh just sighed.

"I told you… it won't work! **Incinerate!**" Kanh clapped his hands together. Fire burst out in a vicious cloud, engulfing all one-hundred and ninety clones in an instant. When the flame dissipated Malecia stood on the floor, panting, having protected herself with a shield of mist that dissolved from the heat. "What's wrong, Malecia, you seem exhausted?"

"This is just a workout." Malecia smiled. "You always were ignorant of your surroundings. _Praemium!_"

What Kanh had assumed were snowflakes continuing down from the sky were actually flakes of mist. They burst outwards in sharp tendrils. He cut away one volley with his sword before having to dodge more. He continued to dance, cutting here, dodging there. One sliced through his armor like butter, another impaling his thigh. A third scrapped his neck while a fourth caught him in the waist. Kanh just took the attacks while doing is best to avoid the others. There were hundreds upon hundreds of the spikes and to Kanh it seemed neverending.

Finally he cut the last spike away and took a breath before he sensed something behind him. He ducked and spun at the same time as a mist sword span around his head. He sent a punch to Malecia's stomach but she hopped back. The book floated by her head. "You're weapons are pretty, but did you train in combat? I made sure I did."

"Do you jest with me? I am a protector, combat is my nature."

Blue katana and mist blade connected, shimmering in the air.

"Magic is your nature, Kanh. The same as everyone."

"To think that magic is nature is to think wrong, Malecia." The blades collided again.

"Nature is who you are, Kanh. And we are all beings of magic."

"Wrong. While everyone may have some semblance of magic within the bit of their bodies, that is not nature. Nature is a person." The blades slammed together. "Nature is what makes a man a man." Kanh knocked away Malecia's sword and sent a punch at her throat, but she knocked the fist aside. "Nature is what _defines _you… and combat defines me! Magic… it _is _helpful, I cannot deny that. But being on the battlefield, not in that stuffy old tower, that is me! That is nature!"

Malecia failed to block the next blow, the katana cutting down her shoulder. Her free hand went instinctively to stem the flow and Kanh swung as hard as he could. It barely missed her nose. Malecia breathed a sigh of relief before the book fluttered to the ground in a hundred pieces. "What have you done?"

"You know a lot of mist magic, Malecia. But I'm sure it's hard to remember all of those spells. I wonder how many you have ingrained in memory?"

"All I need to defeat you. _Carcere!_" Her palm slammed on Kahn's golden chestplate. Tendrils of mist shot from her fingers, wrapping around Kahn binding his arms and legs tightly. The hilt dropped to the ground and the flame sword disappeared. Malecia stepped backwards. "_Gladius magnus!_" A great two-handed sword formed and she gripped it with both hands. She swung with all her might towards Kahn's neck aiming to behead her student.

"**Incinerate.**" Flames burst from Kanh, dissolving the binds easily. The sword dissolved in the heat as Kanh stepped forward and latched his hand around Malecia's throat. She made a gurgling noise that could have been speech. "You know, you need to put down an old d-_hurgh!_"

Kanh glanced down to find a dagger in belly. He glanced up, eyebrow twitching. Malecia dragged the dagger across his belly, letting his entrails fall to the ground. Kanh stumbled back, trying fruitlessly to gather his innards. "I am done with you, Kanh." The dagger took Kanh under the chin. Kanh blinked slowly, before collapsing to the ground. Malecia smiled and crossed her arms. "You could have been a Great Master, you know. You would have brought honor to Ferabolt."

The light came down upon Malecia, coating her in the white light.

The next thing she knew she was sitting at her desk in her cave. Stacks of books stood haphazardly around the dark cave, lit by a sole candle that dripped with hot wax. There was no sign of the bearded man who had invited her to the fight. That man had mentioned multiple fights… perhaps she would appear when the time for the next fight came?

The fight never did. The years passed by and Malecia learnt to wield fire in honor of her fallen foe that brought out the very best in her. Ten years after the fight with Kanh she received a message from Ferabolt. It told that the Great Master had died and left no heirs. Thirty years of exile was enough, it said, and invited her back.

The year's seemed to flicker by as Malecia led Ferabolt. It was there she met Gelios, a magician of water, and they fell in love at first sight. It wasn't long after a tumble in the basement that Malecia found that she was with child.

The next years were the very best of her life. She and Gelios raised Darion as a magician of fire and water, who excelled at creating infernos of scalding mist. Malecia chose Darion as her heir and watched with pride as he led Ferabolt to great heights.

After defeating the latest threat to Ferabolt, Darion turned to his mother. Malecia felt nothing but pride for her son that had come to far. Gelios put a hand on her shoulder and leant close to whisper to her.

"_**Awaken.**_"

Malecia opened her eyes, confused. Kanh stood in front of her with his arms crossed, cigarette smoking. "What… did…"

"Did you see yourself winning? How was our fight? Was it dramatic enough?" Kanh smiled. "And I wonder what you did when you won."

"Gelios… Darion... " Melacia grasped at the memories, fading from her mind. "Bring them back…" She stepped forward and grabbed Kanh's shoulders. "Bring them back! Now! _Kanh! _Bring them back!"

"I can't bring back what never was." Kanh grinned.

"_BRING THEM BACK!_" Malecia screamed, longing for her husband and her son.

"I can take you back to them." Kanh flicked his finger. In an instant Malecia fell to her knees, her hands sliding down Kanh's armor. He waited a few moments before stating, "_**Awaken.**_"

Malecia's eyes widened and in an instant tears formed, sliding down her cheeks. "Gelios… why did… you…"

"You just experienced another fifty years of your life."

Malecia looked up, looking like a lost puppy. "...Kanh… my student… what are you-"

"It would be about the time your spell of extended youth that got you banished ran out. Would you like to see your son and husband again?"

"Yes! Please! Take me back to them!" Malecia grabbed at his legs, still kneeling. "I need to see them again." The tears ran in streams down in eyes.

"Before I send you back, I figure a lady of magic like you would like to know why I can make you see your very dreams in an instant. It's the flow, really. As simple as that. But the flow feeds on magic and Malecia, you are perhaps the strongest of all magicians. It made it all ridiculously easy."

"...Take me back… please…"

"So be it. It has been an intense pleasure." Kanh clicked his finger. Malecia slumped, her head lolling back. After a minute a sliver of blood slid from her nose. Kanh sighed. "I hope you appreciate the life you think you lived. And I hope your death was peaceful. This was just luck, really… power doesn't always ensure survival... " Kanh looked up as he was bathed in light, taking him away.

A cloaked figure seemed to appear out of mid-air. He kneeled in front of the comatose Malecia to take her pulse. While her body was alive, her soul was dead. The figure reached under her jaw and with a quick movement snapped her neck with ease. Then he was gone as quick as he had appeared.


End file.
